


run and hide

by whiry



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Peter Hale, Alpha Talia Hale, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst, BAMF Stiles, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski are the Same Age, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Emissary in Training Stiles Stilinski, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Everyone Is Alive, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Full Shift Werewolves, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Mutual Pining, Mythology - Freeform, Oblivious Stiles Stilinski, Pack Dynamics, Pack Feels, Pining, Pining Derek, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Sharing a Bed, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Slow Burn, Spark Claudia Stilinski, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Speaks Polish, The Hale Family (Teen Wolf) Lives, The Hales Love Stiles Stilinski, Werewolf Conferences & Conventions, but they don't know it's mutual, derek is less oblivious than stiles but not by much, in some cases, not really enemies but they definitely aren't friends at first
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:55:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 36
Words: 174,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24064690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiry/pseuds/whiry
Summary: "Unlike Derek, Stiles still remembers the first time they met. He remembers the confusion at the pull in his chest, tugging him to the boy with big ears and light eyes. He’d been in the grocery store with his mother and Derek with his, and they had all been minding their business, but Stiles had a niggling in the back of his head directing him toward Derek. And when their eyes met for the first time? Stiles’ heart about exploded. He remembers grabbing his chest and gasping and his mother running over and Derek’s mother running over. The boys didn’t even say anything, and poor Derek looked so confused, and Talia and Claudia simply looked at their boys, looked at each other, and immediately set up a time to meet. And that was how it started."or, stiles and derek suck at being mates, a new threat comes to town, and stiles has to desperately try to save everything he's ever loved from total destruction all while trying to get through his sophomore year unscathed.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Claudia Stilinski/Sheriff Stilinski, Cora Hale/Lydia Martin, Derek Hale's Father/Talia Hale, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Laura Hale/Original Male Character(s), Malia Tate/Kira Yukimura, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Peter Hale & Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski & Original Female Character(s), Stiles Stilinski & The Hale Pack, Stiles Stilinski & The Pack, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes, past Kate Argent/Derek Hale - Relationship
Comments: 445
Kudos: 802





	1. are we like you?

**Author's Note:**

> a couple years ago, i saw a prompt talking about the "five packs" and i believe a couple people even wrote a fic or two about it. i've started and re-started this fic multiple times before finally landing on something i like. this is my contribution to that prompt, credits to everyone who's created it and written for it
> 
> this story pretty much only uses the characters and mythology that we learned up until like season 3-4, so while it doesn't follow canon, i would only expect to see characters and story lines from the first 4 seasons
> 
> also, there are mentions of derek and kate's past relationship that would technically be considered underage, but, in my version, they never slept together and nothing gets too graphic or in detail, though you do see exactly how kate was playing with derek. please be advised for that when it comes, i will tag at the beginning of the chapters when it happens
> 
> also, derek might feel slightly ooc in this, maybe stiles a bit too, but i think their lives would have been very different if certain things never happened to them while other things did. also derek is de-aged, so he might be a bit more inexperienced or just plain acting more like a teenager. stiles is also very young and childish at times in this, but not always and not overly so. this is just something i want to warn people about just in case
> 
> not sure how quickly chapters will be out, but we'll shoot for weekly, maybe bi-weekly
> 
> i apologize for a bit of a big first chapter, will try to make them slightly smaller
> 
> fic title comes from "monster" by imagine dragons
> 
> first chapter title comes from "alright" by supergrass

Unlike Derek, Stiles still remembers the first time they met. He remembers the confusion at the pull in his chest, tugging him to the boy with big ears and light eyes. He’d been in the grocery store with his mother and Derek with his, and they had all been minding their business, but Stiles had a niggling in the back of his head directing him toward Derek. And when their eyes met for the first time? Stiles’ heart about exploded. He remembers grabbing his chest and gasping and his mother running over and Derek’s mother running over. The boys didn’t even say anything, and poor Derek looked so confused, and Talia and Claudia simply looked at their boys, looked at each other, and immediately set up a time to meet. And that was how it started.

+++

Stiles shuffles the deck of cards, eyeing his opponent. Theodosia is a very smart, very beautiful girl. Stiles almost can’t believe she’s related to Derek, but then again, he’s seen Derek, so.

Theo raises an eyebrow and tilts up her chin. Stiles is pretty sure it’s a dominance thing, but he can never be sure with wolves. Well, until she flashes her golden eyes at him and looks like a sun goddess or something. He quickly distributes the cards.

Crushes are normal for Stiles. He likes everyone, and some people more than others. He had a metaphorical and literal boner for Theo the first time he saw her when they were twelve and she got out of her mom’s car, shaking out her thick black curls, beautiful dark skin glowing in the afternoon summer sun. He fondly remembers that moment every now and then, but not often enough to incur the wrath of Theo who can smell weakness on men from two miles away.

And then there’s Derek. Stiles’ mate. And honestly? He doesn’t know how he feels about the whole thing, but he definitely likes Derek. But would they have even spoken had they not bonded when they were four? No, probably not.

Derek walks past them then, not even bothering to look up, completely engrossed in his book. Stiles waves, and Derek keeps walking.

Definitely not, then.

Theo rolls her eyes and throws down a card. Stiles doesn’t even remember what game they’re playing.

“You crushing on my cousin is really getting old, Stiles,” Theo remarks. Stiles shushes her intensely considering, you know, werewolves. Super hearing. The like.

“Shut up, he could hear you!”

“You’re mates!” She exclaims. “You’re _supposed_ to like each other!”

Stiles drops his head on the table. Theo throws a card at him.

“Leave me to die,” he grumbles.

“Listen, as much as I love watching you suffer—and I do, Stiles, I really do—the Five Packs are coming in tonight and it’s kinda this big deal and you can’t be here. Also, you’re playing Go Fish and I’m playing Bullshit, so I feel like you leaving isn’t too much of a hardship, ya know?” Theo ruffles his hair.

“Five Packs?” Stiles sits up, bumping into Theo’s hand. She doesn’t care, but rather rolls her eyes at his inquiry.

“God, they really don’t teach you anything, do they?”

“Uh, human?” he tries to remind her.

“Of course,” she muses. “The Five Packs are five of the most powerful and influential packs in a certain region of a certain country. We’re the Pacific Northwest Pack of North America.”

“Jesus, that’s the real name?” Stiles grimaces.

“Unofficially, but we just call ourselves the Pack, which is, like, indistinguishable. Capital ‘P’ makes a world of difference, I guess. But that’s besides the point. The Five Packs consist of Deucalion’s, Satomi’s, Kali’s, Ennis’, and our packs. It’s basically an alliance that means if we ever need help, four other packs will be there for us. It’s an insurance policy.”

Stiles mulls it over. How nice to have people to look out for you, packs of werewolves at the ready to help when the going gets tough. He knows that technically he has that too, that as Derek’s mate he will be protected at all costs. But it doesn’t feel like he deserves it, like he protects the Hales back, because he doesn’t. He provides nothing. He shakes his head to clear the thought and Theo furrows her brows at the movement.

“So, uh, where are they all from, then?”

“Deucalion comes from British Columbia. You know, in Canada?”

  
“Yes, thank you, Theo.”

She raises a lip in a wordless snarl. “Then, Kali is Washington, Ennis is Oregon, and Satomi is a little bit south of us. Each pack gets a state, basically, except British Columbia isn’t an American state and California is bigger so there’s two of us here…”

“Wait, what about other packs? Is it just _the Pack_ or are there more, because I feel like if it’s only five then it’s not a lot of werewolves.”

“No, dodo, there’s smaller packs that we overlook and monitor. It’s like a big machine and if a cog messes up, then we kill them,” Theo says simply.

“Uh.”

“Kidding. Mostly.”

Stiles partly believes her and stands up, leaving the discarded game on the table. Theo just smiles at him and stands up herself. She’s got a good inch or two on him, and that’s without the combat boots that add an extra two inches. Stiles thinks that he’ll grow a little more, since he’s only sixteen, but he’s also resigned himself to the fact that his physical part of puberty will be over very soon and Theo will just always be taller than him.

“And about Derek,” Theo starts, “don’t worry. The universe thinks you’re destined to be together. It’s meant to be.” Stiles laughs humorlessly and nods. He thinks Derek will eventually get sick of him lingering and just put him out of his misery.

Theo walks him to the door, and they pass Derek again. This time Derek does look up, because Theo has laid her hand on the small of Stiles’ back. But Derek doesn’t freak out or something, he just bares his teeth and shoves past both of them. Theo grins proudly nonetheless.

“See! He likes you!”

Stiles stares at her incredulously and wonders if maybe it’s just a werewolf thing.

+++

Stiles’ friends (and the general population) don’t know about werewolves, and therefore don’t know about his bond. Bonding is pretty uncommon for mortals (only 10% of the world’s population bond), but it is eternal and sought after. (About 60% of non-mortals end up bonding, but no one really knows those facts except Stiles.) Everyone and their mother wants a bond, and those that have it are envied by everyone they do and don’t know.

Scott and Allison bonded the start of this school year when Allison moved to Beacon Hills and have since become the school’s most popular couple, second only to Lydia and Jackson, though their relationship was tumultuous and physical at best and thankfully has ended as of a few months ago. Erica and Boyd bonded in eighth grade and were eventually both turned by Alpha Hale—Erica because of her seizures and Boyd because he wouldn’t let Erica face anything alone, no matter if she could handle it or not. Stiles, of course, got stuck being second best to all his friends because of their popularity and/or bonds, when little did they know he’d been bonded his whole life. He had always been able to feel Derek, to sense how far he was, to have a vague idea of his emotions. Derek says that he feels all that but stronger, and he can hear Stiles from miles away, smell him, that his eyes naturally find him first. Stiles thinks it’s cool, but Derek always says that with distaste.

Then there’s Theodosia.

Stiles honestly thinks that had he and Derek not gotten stuck together, they could have had something. But maybe not, because Theo was very private about her love life. She never said anything about boys or girls, and Stiles wasn’t even sure if she’s had a first kiss. Not that he can say anything, given no one has looked his way other than Derek and that was more biological than desire. But Stiles cares for Theo, like, a lot, and he knows that she is kind of like his modern Lydia, in that he could love her, but it probably would never work. That’s why they’re best friends.

“Hey.” A grape gets launched at Stiles’ head. He glares pointedly at Theo. “Whatcha thinking ‘bout?”

“Oh, just the fact that I like to eat my food rather than throw it.” Theo glares back and throws another grape at him. Stiles starts to launch across the table at her when someone suddenly sits down next to him. Like, _right_ next to him.

“Uh, excuse me? Dude?” Stiles glances over and sees Derek of all people sitting there, glaring at his homemade chicken nuggets that Talia Hale makes every Tuesday. Theo is also eating her chicken nuggets and Stiles thinks maybe he should try to get some out of Talia considering he is bonded to her second oldest son and whatnot.

“What.” Derek says rather than asks. Stiles still thinks it’s one of Derek’s many gifts: his inability to properly communicate. Derek’s only just turned seventeen and he already acts like he’s an old man. Stiles is just _so_ excited for their future together. No sarcasm there.

“Uh, no, it’s just that you never sit with me like ever and I know you have your friends and I have mine so I guess I’m just unsure as to why you’re intermingling when you’re the one who—”

“I’m just eating lunch,” Derek says slowly, punctuating each word with a little more hate. And that’s another thing: Stiles isn’t sure that Derek hates him, but he very well might because honestly who knows? Derek is impossible to read.

Stiles looks at Theo, who raises an eyebrow at Derek and sniffs not so inconspicuously, and then seems to relax and continue eating her nuggets, meaning whatever she smelled on Derek she deemed non-threatening. To her, at least.

Stiles can’t feel any particular emotions, but he _can_ almost feel a protectiveness, like Derek is protecting something or someone. Stiles just shrugs and turns to his lunch, trying to pretend like it’s not eating at him that Derek is suddenly interested in being around him.

They eat in a companionable silence until the rest of Stiles’ friends get there. Cora, who sits with them because of her relationship with Isaac (or maybe Lydia? Stiles honestly isn’t sure), sits next to her brother and steals one of his grapes, a staple of the homemade Hale chicken nugget meals, completely oblivious or rather choosing to ignore the situation, like Theo still is. Scott and Allison sit on the other side of Stiles and Scott elbows him gently in the side, to which Stiles shrugs again. Everyone else fills in until Malia, Derek’s other cousin, pulls up an Asian girl with sleek black hair in pigtails, looking unusually happy.

“Guys, this is Kira Yukimura! She’s on here for a trial basis right now, but we’re pretty sure she’s gonna moving here soon!” Malia is never this chirpy, so Stiles takes notice of the girl.

“Hi, Kira,” he says before anyone else has ever lifted their head. Kira smiles brightly back at him and suddenly Derek is glaring and elbows Stiles rather harshly. “Ow!” he yelps, and Scott is suddenly sitting up, looking over at Derek and Kira and Stiles, ready to jump in and intervene. Stiles elbows Derek back, who grumbles under his breath, but accepts it.

Kira is standing there like a lost puppy. Stiles turns his attention back to her. He can tell from here that she’s not entirely human. He’s not sure what she could be, but he knows that it’s not wolf, like Derek or the other Hales. He thinks she could be like Malia, a Hale, yes, but one of the exceptions: a werecoyote. He must stare too long though, because suddenly Derek is pressing into him in a not fun way and Malia is kind of glaring herself and Kira is blushing heavily, and Theo kicks him under the table.

“Uh, so, Kira!” Stiles tries, and she’s very sweet for even meeting his eyes. “Where are you from?”

“Southern California,” she responds as she takes half a sandwich from Malia, the two having found a spot at the table now. “My pa—uh, family are here for this _family_ thing and we were kind of scoping out Beacon Hills. I mean, it’s a beautiful place.”

“Sure,” Stiles says conversationally. And he’s sure it is beautiful to someone who doesn’t live here, what with it being small and surrounded by forest. He personally finds it lonely, even with all the people he has.

“Yeah, so, we’re just seeing if it’s the right place for us,” Kira finishes unceremoniously. She’s not a speechmaker or an orator or anything, but she’s nice and the right kind of awkward where it’s endearing, unlike Stiles’ flailing awkwardness. She’ll fit nicely with their group.

“That’s exciting,” Allison chirps from her place by Scott. Stiles has grown accustomed to her quiet and sweet nature, and her strong opinions when she stumbles upon a topic she feels passionate about. She is beautiful and charming and a perfect match for Scott—literally. Stiles loves her very much. Derek, however, despises her, and Stiles for the life of him can’t figure out why. He knows her estranged sister Kate, who is only a few years older than them, had had a problem with Derek a year or more back, but Derek never clarified what the problem was and apparently no one else knew. Stiles just knows that Derek always got defensive and restless when around the Argents.

Kira beams back at Allison and happily munches on her half of Malia’s sandwich. Everyone else at the table has picked up small quiet conversations while Derek at last turns slightly to Stiles as if to say something, but seems to lose his courage immediately. Theo kicks under the table again, apparently trying to get Derek, but managing to kick them both. Derek glares and Stiles jolts in surprise. Scott notices but simply glances at Stiles before turning back to his food, as if to make sure his best friend isn’t dead and that’s all.

“Stiles,” Theo says, calling his attention. “Derek has something he has to say to you.” She raises an eyebrow at her cousin, but Derek seems embarrassed? But Derek never gets embarrassed so maybe it’s just gas.

“Stay away from any new people these next couple weeks,” Derek says, as if that’s understandable at all. Stiles throws his hands up and turns to Theo. She rolls her eyes.

“He means people from new places that are in town for, oh, _five_ weeks or so, do not trust them. Well, except Kira.” Kira perks up at her name and smiles kindly at Theo. Theo smiles back just as kind and then turns back to Derek and Stiles.

“Uh, okay,” he says, although the warning is rather ominous and foreboding and he’s not sure what it all means. But he gets her meaning: anyone from one of the Five Packs, minus Kira, is not to be trusted. He can do that.

“Great,” Theo hums, turning back to her food, apparently satisfied. Stiles knows that if she and Derek are agreeing on something, it must be pretty serious.

+++

The mandatory hangouts started just after Stiles and Derek mated. Claudia and Talia would get the boys together for “playdates” while they chatted in the kitchen or the living room about whatever it is adults talk about. Derek would sulk while Stiles tried to play superheroes with him, or talk about superheroes, or watch superhero movies (he was a relatively simple kid, contrary to popular belief). As they got older, Stiles stopped asking Derek for stuff, stopped trying to interact with him. It was clear to him that Derek wanted nothing to do with him or the bond.

But Claudia and Talia still made them hang out. Even now, both sophomores in high school, their mothers still set everything up, make sure both boys go, make sure they keep the bond strong.

Today’s different, though, because of the Pack. Normally, they’d hang out at Derek’s house, surrounded by the pack and their mutual loved ones (even if Derek hated Stiles’ guts and didn’t consider him a loved one). But they can’t because Stiles isn’t supposed to go over to Derek’s while the Pack is in town. He’s not sure if it’s because he’s human or because he’s Derek’s mate or both. He doesn’t want to find out.

So they’re at Stiles’ house now, up in his room—door open, because Claudia always gives them a pointed look, like something is supposed to be happening between them (but obviously is not)—with Derek lounging on his bed while he sits at his desk and does homework. This is the one thing about them that really works. They work well together in silence, are able to just exist in each other’s presence. Half the time Stiles ends up filling the void with his endless ramblings and Derek just nods along, occasionally adding something he deems important. But that’s just who they are.

Stiles is currently learning about arc diameter and light years and astronomical units and all that nonsense for astronomy when a thought pops into his head.

“So, what’s your take on the Pack? The big one, I mean, the Five,” he asks. Derek has an arm thrown over his eyes and looks like he’s asleep, but Stiles can feel him awake.

(He doesn’t really know how to describe it, just that he can tell when Derek is asleep or awake based on his emotions. He’s like a bonded Santa Claus.)

“What do you mean?” Derek replies after a moment. Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Like, are any of them good? Are any bad? Do you guys all work together? Do you howl at the moon? What are the puppy piles like? Do you think werewolves are more likely to—”

“We’re all good, I guess,” Derek says, ignoring Stiles’ rambling. He usually does. “I suppose Deucalion, Kali, and Ennis are the ones to watch out for.”

“So, like, more than half of you.”

“Kali and Ennis are followers, as much as they hate to admit it. They’ll do whatever the Alpha says.”

“They’re both Alphas, though?”

“I mean _the_ Alpha. In this case, that’s my mom.” Derek’s voice always lilts up a bit when he talks about his mom, like he’s proud of her. Stiles finds it adorable. “But they follow Deucalion because they don’t agree with my mom’s more… Liberal philosophies.”

“Like what?”

“That werewolves and humans can coexist, for starters. Or that they can bond.”

Stiles looks down. “Oh.”

“My mom’s always thought that we’re better together. She thinks that’s the way of the future. Deucalion thinks that humans are weak and need to be submissive. He thinks that bonds are futile and just complicate things.”

“And what do you think?” Stiles’ voice is a little too quiet for his liking, but Derek never talks about bonding. Ever. He also never talks this much in general, so that’s pretty neat.

Derek finds his gaze and holds it. “I think bonds make us stronger.”

Stiles feels warm all over, feels it leak into the bond. He knows Derek can feel it too, because suddenly they’re sending each other little smiles. It feels nice.

“Cool,” he says, almost stuttering over the words. Derek lays his head back down, nodding.

“Cool,” he repeats.

+++

Derek’s just left when it happens.

Claudia promised she’d be right back and ran to the store for something. John is at work. Stiles is alone.

He’s on the back porch, really just enjoying nature and thinking about how much he genuinely enjoys being in Derek’s presence, and how he really likes him and how it’s not because of the bond necessarily but because, for some reason, he enjoys being around his grumpy ass, making jokes, talking about serious things, just existing.

He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the weird humming in the air, a sort of warning. He doesn’t notice it until it’s too late.

The thing comes out of the woods, running at Stiles faster than he can really see, if running is even how that movement can be described. He can’t even describe the shape; it’s like an ink blot that’s coming toward him, bright red eyes and sharp inky teeth attached to it. Stiles is pretty sure he screams—because he’s seen Talia do a full shift, and Laura and Peter for that matter, and none of them ever looked like _this_ —and takes off running.

He has to run past the thing to get away, because he knows going back into the house is like signing his death warrant, and it manages to swipe his left arm. Stiles feels the blood start to run, but he can’t stop. He dashes into the trees, into the Preserve, and prays that all the drills the Hale family and lacrosse has been making him do are enough to outrun whatever this is.

He runs deeper into the woods, trying to find something, _anything_ , to give him the upper hand, glancing back over his shoulder, when he smacks into a tree. He feels it scrape up his face as he tumbles over one of its roots and is sent sprawling onto the forest floor. He quickly shuffles to get up, but then he sees the beast that’s been chasing him is standing a few feet away, snarling at him, watching him.

He’s pretty sure this is it.

He thinks that there’s no way he’s going to scream or cry or beg. No way he’ll give this thing the satisfaction. He’ll fight until it kills him. Literally.

The beast lunges at him and Stiles throws a hand up to sort of block the attack, but it never comes. When he looks back, he sees the monster is rolling over on the ground, moving to get back to its feet. Stiles isn’t sure how it ended up falling or whatever, but it’s pretty funny that it did.

He starts to get up, staying crouched however, and chuckles lowly. The beast roars at him. He loses all bravado.

Then: a different roar.

A familiar one.

  
One that rattles his chest with strength and protection.

He grins manically, bouncing between his feet as he stands up.

“Oh, boy, you’re in for it now!” he chirps. The beast launches at him again.

Stiles watches and, as he ducks, it gets within a foot of him before hitting an invisible wall and dropping back to the floor. Stiles scrambles backwards on his palms. He can hear the pounding of feet against the leaves, and he knows that he’ll be safe soon. But what the hell just happened?

The beast tries to swipe at him.

It hits an invisible wall.

It tries to bite at him.

It hits an invisible wall.

Stiles is so confused that he barely sees Derek appear in all his glory, all wolfed out with glowing golden eyes and fangs. He roars at the inky monster, moves to tackle it or bite its head off or something, but the beast just snarls back and is gone within a flash, either having run away or literally just dissipating into the night. Derek starts to chase after it before realizing Stiles is still just crouching there in the middle of the woods with no shoes on, looking terribly confused and a little frightened.

“Stiles,” he says around a mouthful of fangs. He pulls Stiles to his feet and grabs Stiles’ arms, his face, checking him over, stroking at the part of Stiles’ face that aches terribly. Then he notices the blood on Stiles’ left arm. His nostrils flare. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m okay,” Stiles says back lamely, brushing off Derek’s hand. He has so many questions and no one to answer them. “No, really, I’m fine.”

Derek hesitates a moment. Then, “Come on.”

“Wha—where are we going?”

“My house.”

“But the Pack—my shoes!”

“It’s fine, just come on.”

Derek starts to pull Stiles along, then pauses, and scoops him up in his arms, bridal style. Stiles yelps.

“Dude!” Derek says nothing to his exclamation. “It’s, like, _miles_ back to your house!”

Derek huffs and takes this as a sign that he should start jogging instead. Stiles doesn’t even want to think about how ridiculously attractive it is that Derek can not only carry him, but jog with him. The thought makes his knees weak.

Good thing Derek’s got him.

+++

When they’re close to the Hale property, Stiles makes Derek set him down. He does not need all the Hales and their wolfy friends seeing Derek carry him like that. He can’t live with that kind of embarrassment.

Talia is rushing outside before they even make it out of the Preserve.

“I smelled blood. What happened?” she asks, spotting Stiles walking dejectedly behind Derek, awkwardly holding his arm. Stiles can see the entire Pack making their way out onto the porch, most of the Hales wearing their pajamas. Oh, yeah, he’s never gonna live this down. And he’s still barefoot, on top of everything, the tiny twigs and rocks digging into the soles of his feet.

“Nothing—” Stiles tries, but Derek cuts him off.

“Something attacked him. I didn’t get a good look at it, but it smelled like… It smelled like magic.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow. He knows that there’s a whole supernatural community out there and whatever, but he didn’t know there was such a thing as magic. Sure, it totally makes sense, but he’s literally never heard of one person who was magic.

“Magic’s real?”

Derek gives him a look like he’s too dumb to speak and doesn’t respond. Stiles doesn’t know if that’s an answer or not, because, honestly, that could just be Derek’s neutral expression toward him.

“Are you okay?” Talia’s up in his space, poking and prodding like a loving mother. She holds his arm out to survey the damage. The bleeding’s almost stopped, but it doesn’t look that great. It might even scar. Stiles groans.

“My parents are gonna kill me.”

Talia huffs at him and wraps an arm around his shoulder, directing him toward the house. Derek stays close to his other side, closer than he’s been since, like, ever. Their hands brush.

The Pack is huddled together, Theodosia at the front looking the most concerned Stiles has ever seen her. She launches forward and wraps her arms around him. Talia relinquishes her grip.

“Oh my God, I smelled you and the blood and I thought you—” She doesn’t finish her sentence, instead pulling Stiles tighter. He hugs her back, getting a face full of her thick curls in the process.

“I’m okay, Theo,” he murmurs. He sees her parents standing over by Derek’s dad. They look really concerned.

Derek lets out a little growl behind them.

“We need to bandage your arm and talk, Stiles,” he warns, all the warmth from earlier fading away and showing his usual brutish self. Stiles huffs and pulls away from Theo, squeezing her arms as he does. She nods, moving out of his way so he can pass.

Then, “Oh, God, your face, Stiles.”

He huffs a laugh. “What, just now noticing how supernaturally beautiful I am?”

Theo shoves at him, but he sees the relief in her eyes.

There’s so many people, so many people that Stiles doesn’t even know. He grew up with the Hales, because of the whole Derek/bond thing, but there’s only about 20 Hales, more or less. Talia once said that her pack was one of the smallest. He knows now she meant of the Five, because he counts at least 40 people that aren’t Hales and he’s pretty sure that’s just the start of them all.

Derek puts a rough hand on his back and leads him through the crowd. They all watch, some of them whispering amongst themselves. An older Japanese woman smiles brightly at him. He half-waves to her, only for Derek to growl at him.

They head to Talia’s office, which, like most of the bedrooms, is soundproof. Talia, Derek’s father Red, the old Japanese woman, two men, and a woman enter after them. Talia closes and locks the door behind her, preventing anyone—particularly children—from wandering in.

“I’ve called Deaton and the Stilinskis. They should be here soon,” Red informs Talia as she moves to the first aid. She nods, brushing her dark hair behind her ear. She gestures for Stiles to come forward. Stiles has heard the name Deaton before, but he’s still not entirely sure who that is. He supposes he’ll find out soon enough.

“Let me look at it, honey.” Stiles ends up sitting on the edge of the desk, holding his arm out for Talia to see as she clucks and looks more closely at it. From what Stiles can see, there’s dirt and leaves and shit in it, which means it’s going to hurt like a bitch when they start cleaning it. But it’s not bad: four long scratches that are only trickling blood minimally now. Stiles’ hands are stained from his own blood. Derek’s hands, too. That’s probably the most jarring part of this to him.

“What happened?” Red asks, rifling through the first aid kit, trying to prepare for the process of cleaning. Stiles glances at Derek, who’s hanging back behind all the strange adults Stiles still doesn’t know. He looks sullen and angry. As usual.

“I… Something was in the woods. It came after me,” Stiles admits. No reason to try and lie to werewolves. “It scratched me, but that’s it. I mean it tried to—” Stiles isn’t sure he wants to admit what happened, what with the invisible forcefields. He feels dumb, like maybe he should, because, seriously, they’re _werewolves_ , weird shit is who they are. But it still feels private and special, like it’s his alone. He wants to hold onto that.

“Stiles?” Talia asks, meeting his eye. He didn’t realize he’d just trailed off in the middle of his sentence.

“Oh, um, I was just saying that it tried to attack me but I ran. And then Derek showed up and saved me.”

He knows for a fact his heart doesn’t blip when he tells the half-truth, but he can feel Derek’s confusion through the bond. Because Derek saw him standing there, facing down the monster. He knows, at least partly, that Stiles is omitting the truth.

But then there’s a knock on the door, and the tension dissipates, and Derek is unlocking and opening it. Claudia Stilinski immediately pushes past him and runs straight to Stiles, squeezing the ever-loving shit out of him.

“ _Kochanie_ ,” she says and then she’s grabbing his face, inspecting whatever damage the tree did, and speaking to him in rushed Polish, so rushed that Stiles struggles to translate. “Are you alright? What happened? I came home and the door was open and your phone was on the counter and you were gone. I thought something happened and I called your father and then Red called—”

“ _Mamo_ , I’m fine,” he interrupts in English. She can be just like him when she’s upset or anxious, all rambling and tripping over her words and leaping from one topic to the next. That’s where he gets it from, actually. “I—there was something in the woods. But Derek showed up before anything happened.”

Claudia looks up at Derek, who’s still in the back, sheepishly closing the door, his cheeks suspiciously red. She leaves Stiles to march straight up to Derek and pull him into a hug. He looks surprised.

“ _Thank you_ ,” Stiles can hear her say. He feels a flooding of familial love go through their bond, knowing that’s coming straight from Derek, that he loves Claudia, presumably like a mother. It makes Stiles’ insides churn.

“Well, only you could manage to get yourself into trouble while at home, Stiles,” John is saying, and Stiles didn’t even see him come in, but he grins up at his dad. He looks relieved, Stiles can tell.

“Yeah, yeah.” He waves his hand, but lets his dad pull him into a tight hug.

“Mr. Stilinski,” a new voice greets. Stiles looks over his shoulder. A middle-aged black man stands in front of the four ominous people that Stiles _still doesn’t know who they are_ , in khakis and a blue button-up, even though it’s almost nine on a Tuesday night. His hands are brought together in front of him, just waiting patiently. Stiles quirks an eyebrow.

“Uh, yes?”

“I’m Dr. Deaton.”

“Oh, uh, just Doctor?”

“Just Doctor.” Then Deaton gestures to Stiles’ arm. “May I look at that?”

“Okay.”

Deaton steps closer to inspect Stiles’ arm. Stiles sees Derek moving out of the corner of his eye, like a restless animal.

“Hmm. And do you know what attacked you, Mr. Stilinski?”

“I… Um, well, it looked like—” Stiles cuts himself off again. It’s embarrassing to say and he’s pretty sure he couldn’t see it correctly. He doesn’t want to implant an idea into their heads and for it then to be wrong. For them to chase after the wrong thing.

“Mr. Stilinski?”

“I-it looked like…” He glances over to Derek, who’s a lot closer now than he was before. His presence has always given Stiles strength. He takes a breath and turns to face Deaton.

“It looked like a monster.”

+++

The cleaning process hurts like a bitch and he ends up needing stitches and Deaton tells him gravely that it’ll probably leave a bit of a scar and his shirt is definitely ruined, but he gets to watch Talia and Red frantically whisper to Deaton while the four strangers stand silently in the back of the room, Claudia and John making vague facial expressions at each other and Derek awkwardly hovering in the background.

It’s a fun time.

Finally, Talia clears her throat and claps her hands together.

“Well, it’s been a very… Eventful night, but there is school in the morning. Stiles, would you and your parents like to join us for dinner tomorrow night?” She smiles warmly, the same smile she always wears, but there’s something odd in her eyes, something Stiles can’t really place, because it kind of looks like fear and Talia Hale is not afraid of anything.

Stiles looks at his parents, who both nod. He turns back to Talia. “We’d love to.”

“Great,” Talia breathes. She gestures for Derek. “Honey, why don’t you take Stiles home? If that’s alright with you two?” She looks at Claudia and John for that. They both nod.

“It’s a great idea,” Claudia says, smiling and squeezing Stiles’ shoulder.

“O-kay,” he says, getting up and turning to Derek. “Come on, big guy.”

Derek scrunches his nose up at the nickname, but opens the door for Stiles anyway.

Derek drives Laura’s old Camaro, treats it like his baby. He doesn’t let anyone sit in it, breathe in it, and certainly not exist in it. Stiles is no exception.

But tonight, he opens the door for Stiles, gesturing impatiently for him to get in when Stiles just stands there with his jaw hanging open. Because this isn’t Derek. Derek isn’t kind and compassionate. That’s just… Weird. This is all weird.

But he gets in and puts his seat belt on and taps a rhythm on his knees, trying to remain patient. Derek slides into the driver’s seat and pulls away within seconds. He looks as high-strung as Stiles feels.

He tries to send positive vibes through the bond, but he’s confident they don’t make it, because Derek is just squeezing the steering wheel so hard it’s creaking underneath his hands, the speedometer pushing 15 over the speed limit.

“So, that was…” Stiles doesn’t have a word for it. He’s trying to lighten the mood, but he can’t think of anything. He tries a different approach. “So you’re playing in the game against Ridgemont on Friday?”

But it works. The wheel stops creaking, Derek’s shoulders droop a little, and the speed limit becomes a steady 5 over, which is relatively normal and Derek’s always supposedly driven fast anyway, so Stiles isn’t too worried.

“I play every lacrosse game, Stiles,” he says, sounding a little exasperated.

“And you aren’t worried?”

“To play against a bunch of prissy rich kids from a prissy rich boarding school? Who are all human? No.”

“You don’t know they’re all human.”

Derek gives him a look. “I’m 90% sure they’re all human.”

“That’s a 10% chance for error.”

“Not sure that’s how that works.”

“What do you know? You’re only 90% sure.”

Derek snorts and turns onto Stiles’ street. Car rides always go faster when Stiles can goad Derek into a conversation. The bond between them feels lighter, too.

He parks by the mailbox, and then his whole body kind of freezes. Stiles pushes his lips together, trying to hold in a comment. Sometimes it’s better to just let Derek speak first, he’s found out.

“Are you—do you think—are you going to be okay?” Derek asks finally, looking up at Stiles. Stiles raises an eyebrow.

“It’s just a scratch,” he says, lifting his arm up to gesture to it.

“No, Stiles, not your arm, I mean—” He sighs. “—I mean, are you going to be okay? Like mentally or whatever?”

Jesus Christ, is Derek always this emotionally constipated?

Actually, he is. Stiles already knows that.

“Yes, Derek, I’ll be fine ‘ _mentally or whatever_ ,’” he teases. At Derek’s tense expression, he rolls his eyes and pats the hand that’s still on the gear shift. “Derek, really, I’ll be fine. Don’t pull a muscle or something.”

“I’m not—just—” He cuts himself off to huff and grab Stiles and pull him in. Stiles thinks they’re going to kiss—and his heart leaps into his throat—but then Derek is shoving his face into Stiles’ neck and inhaling deeply.

Stiles panics.

He’s read and heard about this: scenting. It’s very popular in the supernatural bonded community, specifically among werewolves and were-kind. Stiles read about it when he was 12, and thought he was going to die, getting warm all over at the thought of it. He never thought Derek would ever want to do _that_ with _him_.

Derek’s huffing like breaths, inhaling Stiles so much that he thinks he must smell pretty damn good, because _shit_ , Derek’s taking in gulps like he can’t breathe. Stiles is stock still, too scared and turned on to move. He’s trying to pretend like this isn’t happening; maybe that’ll stop his heart from beating out of his chest.

Then Derek’s pulling away, clearing his throat awkwardly, still very much in Stiles’ space. He opens the door behind Stiles before finally leaning all the way back.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Stiles,” he says simply. Like that didn’t just happen.

“Uh, yeah.” Stiles stumbles out of the car and shuts the door behind him. He heads up to his front door and opens it, throwing a wave over his shoulder at Derek, who’s just sitting there watching him, like Stiles clearly can’t see him. Stiles rolls his eyes and heads inside. Only then does he hear Derek’s car pull away.

His parents aren’t home yet, so he heads upstairs to his bedroom, takes off his stained shirt, and tries to fall asleep before they can get home to ask him any questions, willing his painful boner to go away and trying to forget everything that just happened before it permanently sears itself into his skull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so first of all, there are parts that are meant to be polish, but i didn't wanna like write the whole thing in polish because that'd just be a lot of work for me and you, so only some things are selectively written in the polish and the rest says like "she says in rushed Polish" or whatever, just so y'all know.
> 
> also i'll add warnings and tags as i go, i don't want to spoil anything!
> 
> updates should be weekly or bi-weekly, i'm almost finished with the story so i should have a chapter count soon too
> 
> EDIT: i fixed that kate and allison are actually sisters, not aunt/niece, since i mention that later in my story, but messed it up in this first chapter. sorry!


	2. you are a stranger here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You ran into a tree?”
> 
> “Yeah, Derek and I were hanging out and whatever and I got excited and I ran face first into a tree.”
> 
> “Wow. You’re more uncoordinated than I thought.”
> 
> “Thanks, Scotty,” Stiles sighs.
> 
> Scott beams and claps him on the shoulder. “No problem, buddy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when i said shorter chapters? lmao my bad
> 
> i know this is technically exactly a week apart from the last update, but i do think i'm gonna be doing bi-weekly or even more from here on out. i still don't have a chapter count or anything because i am awful, but it's 60k right now and i'm still not done ha ha kill me
> 
> this is continually unbeta'd so i'm sorry for errors
> 
> chapter title comes from "who are you, really?" from mikky ekko

When Stiles gets to school the next day, he’s immediately accosted by Scott.

“Dude, your face!”

Stiles winces. When he last checked, his face was all purple and blue on the right side, little scrapes all up his cheeks from the tree bark. He ran hard into the tree, and now he’s paying for it.

“What about it?” He tries. Scott gives him a look.

“Dude, you’re all beaten up! What the hell happened?” Scott lifts a hand up to touch the bruises, but stops just before making contacting, grimacing.

“Oh, yeah, ha. I, uh, ran into a tree.”

Better to stick to a semblance of the truth, right?

“You ran into a tree?”

“Yeah, Derek and I were hanging out and whatever and I got excited and I ran face first into a tree.”

It’s close enough to the truth. Actually, not close at all, but believable enough. Stiles is wildly eccentric and uncoordinated. It’s plausible.

“Wow. You’re more uncoordinated than I thought.”

“Thanks, Scotty,” Stiles sighs, but he’s internally grateful it worked.

Scott beams and claps him on the shoulder. “No problem, buddy.”

+++

Stiles gets a lot more sympathy throughout the day than he knows what to do with. Allison coos at him and Lydia gives him an unimpressed eyebrow (which, yes, it is affectionate sympathy, he can tell the difference between her eyebrows now (eyebrow reading is, like, his gift; he’s had more than enough practice with Derek over the years)) and Jackson laughs at him but Danny tells him that the bruising isn’t that bad and Isaac and Erica and Malia tease him, Boyd silently judging from behind Erica, and Cora rolls her eyes and Kira says he looks badass and Theo cuffs him gently upside the head. And Derek.

Derek, since the moment he got to school, has been all but plastered to Stiles’ side, walking him to every class, carrying his books even when Stiles protests, and, wildly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders at lunch, which has everyone at the table looking at each other and Stiles blushing furiously. But Derek looks worried and the bond feels tight, like there’s this high-strung tension, a rope being pulled taut, and everything’s all staticky and tastes like ozone, or what Stiles imagines ozone would taste like because he doesn’t really know, but that’s not the point. Needless to say, it’s a feeling that puts Stiles on edge, overflowing feelings and emotions from Derek. Probably because he’s never really experienced it before, at least not this much or this heavily.

“Derek,” he whispers in his ear while they’re at lunch, as Derek is clutching onto him, gazing over their conjoined shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

Derek just shakes his head, turning back so he’s looking at Stiles. There’s worry in his eyes. He’s never worried, not like this. Something sinks in Stiles’ gut. He knows why Derek is worried: whatever happened last night is something that has yet to be explained, meaning no one knows what attacked him or why it chose him, but the way it was moving toward him, how it kept trying to get at him despite the invisible barrier, it was _after him_ , and it’d be coming back. Derek knows this, and that’s why he’s so worried.

He’s worried that Stiles might not make it out of this.

Because he’s not like Derek or his family, not a wolf or a were-whatever. He has no special abilities or powers. There’s _nothing_ special about him. He won’t be able to defend himself when this thing comes. And Derek won’t always be there to protect him. And this thing _will_ come.

Derek must see that Stiles gets what he’s not saying, because he squeezes a little tighter and swallows hard.

“It’ll be okay,” he tries to console Stiles. Stiles takes a deep breath and tries to shove his worries down. He can’t bring this up at school, not when all his friends are only a couple feet away, when only a handful or more of them even know about the supernatural world or what happened last night or what’s going on between Stiles and Derek. This can wait until later.

“I know,” he says, smiling softly at Derek. They stare at each other for a couple moments—and Stiles can feel the reassurance rushing through the bond—before turning back to their lunch.

Derek eventually relinquishes his hold on Stiles, but he doesn’t stop stepping up into his space the rest of the day. Stiles most definitely does not mind. Theo gives him a dorky thumbs up, which he pointedly ignores.

+++

When Stiles gets home that afternoon from lacrosse practice, which largely consisted of Derek glaring and silently threatening anyone who got even a little close to Stiles, he finds his mother sitting on the couch with Dr. Deaton, of all people, hunched over a book.

“Uh,” he says.

“Stiles!” Claudia sits up straight, looking the slightest bit worried. Deaton closes the book and leans back, though he doesn’t seem stressed at all. “I didn’t realize what time it was.”

“I just got out of practice.”

“Oh, right, well, how about you go shower before dinner tonight and I’ll show Dr. Deaton out, okay?” She rises, gesturing for Deaton to follow her, tucking the book under her arm. Deaton does silently. Stiles feels like he’s missing something.

“Um, okay?”

But he goes upstairs and showers anyway, trying to wash the weirdness of the day off him.

+++

His dad gets off early and the three of them all pile into Claudia’s little green Bug (her upgrade from the blue Jeep that she gave to Stiles, though she never uses the word “upgrade” and instead finds more creative swears in every language she knows) and head over to the Hales around six. Stiles spends most of the ride trying to straighten himself out. Claudia insisted that they semi-dress up, so she’s wearing a summery dress while his dad is wearing a button-up and a tie. Stiles has taken after his dad, but instead of a real button-up, it’s just his nicest flannel. Claudia was not happy when he came downstairs, but they’re already late, so she just sighed and ushered him to the car.

They’re turning onto the Hales’ street when Stiles interrupts his parents’ conversation about how their day was.

“So, why was Deaton over today, Mom?”

John raises an eyebrow at Claudia and she shifts uncomfortably in her seat. _Interesting_.

“Oh, well, we were talking about last night.”

“What about last night?”

“Well, I was concerned about everything and he… Just clarified some stuff.”

Stiles narrows his eyes. “What does that even mean—?”

“Oh, look, Derek’s waiting for you on the porch!”

They’re pulling into the pebble driveway now, and Derek is indeed standing on the porch, arms crossed over his chest, looking incredibly uncomfortable. Stiles glares at the back of his mom’s head, but drops the conversation for now. She’s totally hiding something, but what he’s not sure.

Stiles clambers out of the car and towards Derek as soon as it stops moving. He’d rather be getting artfully ignored by Derek than try to decipher what the hell is going on.

As he approaches Derek, however, he realizes that the artfully ignoring is not going to happen, because Derek is suddenly pulling him close and shoving his nose into Stiles’ neck, like he did last night. Stiles blinks, hands coming up to grip at Derek’s stupid shirt sleeves. And, seriously, all he wears are those dumb henleys that look absolutely amazing on him and show off every muscle and cling to him like every day is a goddamn wet T-shirt contest, and, ooh, what would he look like in a wet T-shirt—

“Stiles,” Derek mumbles into his skin. His breath tickles Stiles’ neck, but he tries not to squirm too much.

“Uh, yeah?” His voice is definitely higher than it was before.

“ _Relax_.”

Right. Because this is a totally normal thing that happens between two high school boys. What with the soul bond and being mates and shadow monsters attacking them on Stiles’ part and being a werewolf on Derek’s part and—

Derek pulls away, huffing and scrunching his nose. “You think too much.”

Stiles should feel bad, because he’s pretty sure Derek is referencing to the fact that he can smell his anxiety—or maybe like his thoughts? Does overthinking give off a burning smell, like a machine being overworked?—but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Uh,” he says intelligently.

Derek rolls his eyes and walks inside. Claudia and John have carefully and slowly made their way to him by now.

“Everything good?” John asks. Claudia is beaming, a mischievous glint in her eyes that’s terribly familiar.

“Shut up,” he mutters, following Derek.

His parents’ laughter echoes behind him.

+++

Talia and Red Hale have four kids: Grant, their oldest, who’s calm and relaxed and currently getting his PhD; Laura, the wild card who finally calmed down when she met, and later married, her mate Thomas, kids TBD; Derek, the most reserved and quietest of the bunch, a total middle child where it counts though; and Cora, who’s almost as wild as Laura and slightly more aggressive, fitting the youngest’s theme well. Over the years, getting to know each Hale sibling, Stiles has come to discover that, well, if he could pick his mate, he’d always pick Derek. Every time. Derek’s just the obvious choice, no disrespect on the other Hales.

It’s kind of sad that Derek will never feel the same way.

Stiles is thinking about all this, being despondent and shit, when Grant knocks into his shoulder. He’s apparently home from school just for the Pack’s visit. Stiles’ always liked him—he’s literally like a more relaxed version of Derek. Honestly, if not for Derek and Grant’s age, though he’s not terribly older, Stiles would probably choose him next, if he was picking from the Hale siblings exclusively.

“How’re you liking it so far?” He asks, gesturing to all the people in the house. Stiles still only knows half of them, most belonging to one of the other packs. He hasn’t even met their Alphas yet, but he’s only been here maybe fifteen minutes.

“It’s… A lot.”

“Try being related to half of them,” Grant teases, knocking back whatever’s in his cup. Stiles is pretty sure it’s that weird werewolf liquor that all those underground magical stores sell, laced with a trace amount of wolfsbane or whatever can actually get werewolves drunk. He snickers at Grant.

“Yeah, never really got what’s supposed to be so good about a big family,” he admits, then freezes. “Not that your family isn’t great! I love you all, seriously, it’s just that—”

“I get it,” Grant reassures him. “Sometimes it’s easier when there’s a couple of you. When it’s just me and my siblings and my parents, it’s better.”

Stiles nods, shifting awkwardly. Grant seems to take this movement the wrong way.

“I mean, of course we love you Stiles, and we’re so happy that you’re going to be in our lives permanently, I didn’t mean to cause offense or anything—”

“No, you didn’t!” And, holy shit, _permanently_? Well, yeah, it is a mating bond, after all, they’re bound to each other, bound to be in each other’s lives. That’s literally what it means.

Still the word makes Stiles feel faint, no matter how many times he’s heard it.

(Or thought about it. Or hoped for it.)

But how can he be bound to Derek when he’s such a liability? When Derek has to take care of him all the time. When he’s a burden.

Talia smoothly sidles up beside them, raising her glass toward Grant in greeting. He raises his empty one back.

“Stiles,” she says warmly, “how are you doing today?”

Stiles pulls himself out of whatever rut he’s stuck in and puts on a brave face.

“Oh, yeah, no, I’m fine. Doesn’t even hurt.” He gestures his arm and face. Talia smiles, but it’s tight and worried, her face so achingly similar to Derek’s for a moment that Stiles is forced to remember how similar the two of them are.

“That’s good,” she says, but she seems really distracted, almost lost in thought. Stiles clears his throat awkwardly.

“Um, do you know where Derek is?” Talia brightens at the name.

“Of course, he’s on the back patio.”

“Right, okay, I’m just gonna…” He makes a gesture toward the back of the house. Talia nods and smiles, waving him away. Grant laughs.

He’s gently pushing through people to get to the back door when he runs into Kira. Her eyes widen when she spots him.

“S-Stiles? What are you doing here?”

Stiles grins. “Didn’t you know? I’m magically bound to Mr. Grumpy Wolf himself.”

Kira’s eyes widen more. “You’re mated? Holy shit.”

Stiles laughs. “Yeah, have been my whole life. Side note, and it might be rude to ask, but what the hell are you?”

Now Kira laughs. “Oh, right. Well, I’m a kitsune. My family and I belong to Satomi’s pack, but we’ve been thinking about moving up to Beacon Hills. This is kind of our trial run.” Kira gestures toward a familiar Japanese woman, who is smiling in their direction somewhat ominously. Stiles recognizes her from last night; she was in the room when he was getting bandaged.

“ _That’s_ Satomi?”

“Tougher than she looks,” Kira chirps. “And older.”

Stiles looks back at Kira quizzically. “Older?”

“Werewolves, and were-like creatures, age slower than humans, you must know that.”

“Uh, just how old is she?”

“I’ve never liked that question,” a new voice is suddenly saying from right behind Stiles. He jumps, but it’s just Satomi, standing there and smiling up at him. “It must a woman thing.”

“I’ll leave you to it!” And Kira is bouncing away. Stiles gulps and tries to give Satomi a smile.

“I didn’t mean anything by it, I just—”

“I’m teasing you, Mr. Stilinski,” she says calmly.

“Ah, right.” Stiles runs a hand over his scalp. He doesn’t ask how she knows his name, because he sure everyone knows him after the events of last night. He’s positive his nervous energy is projecting through the bond. He wants Derek, just to talk to him for a couple of minutes, and he’s sure he’ll feel better.

“Well, I think I’m gonna—”

“Your arm must hurt, no?” Satomi is giving him this weird look that Stiles can’t really decipher.

“Um, I guess, but it’s not that bad—”

“You said what attacked you looked like a monster or a demon, right? But those are claw marks. I don’t have the best experience with demons, but their claws don’t look like that. Don’t know many monsters like that either.”

Stiles knows what she means, even though he’s fairly sure he never said “demon” aloud. Underneath the bandages, the skin around the stitches is dark gray and looks like it’s covered in ash or soot. A werewolf couldn’t have done that. Stiles knows nothing about demons and not a lot of monsters, if any, but he trusts Satomi as an Alpha. He’s just as lost about what attacked him as everyone else is. He can barely describe the thing, anyway.

“Oh? Yeah, um, I don’t know, I guess I didn’t really see it all that well.”

Satomi hums. “Interesting.” She reminds Stiles of Deaton, the way she sort of observes and silently judges or decides or whatever it is she’s doing right now. It’s unnerving and somehow incredibly powerful, like she has all the knowledge in the world and she’s choosing to impart little nuggets of wisdom or clarity at her leisure.

“Well,” she gestures toward the back door, “I’ll let you find your wolf. Take care of him.”

Psh, yeah, like Stiles is the one who takes care of Derek.

But he nods. “I will,” he promises, because he doesn’t know what else to say. She smiles and gestures again and then disappears into the crowd. Stiles lets out a breath and heads off to find Derek.

Outside, the rest of the Pack is setting up two extremely long dining tables for guests to sit and eat at. This must mean the entirety of the Pack that’s in town will be eating here tonight, or at least a vast majority of them. The thought is daunting.

Derek is leaning against the deck’s railing, watching everyone work, seemingly lost in thought. Stiles sidles up next to him, firmly pressing into his side. They only touch like this when the situation is dire, like when Claudia found that tumor (which turned out to be benign, thank God), or when John got shot on the job, or when Red and Talia and Laura got in that really bad car accident during 7th grade. When they need comfort, they go to each other. It calms something within them.

Derek doesn’t say anything about the touching. Instead, he moves his arm to pull Stiles tightly into his side, wrapping his arm around him. He turns his head and sniffs at Stiles’ head, which should totally weird him out, but somehow has the opposite effect on him.

“I met Satomi,” Stiles says after a few minutes. Derek makes a light humming noise, like he’s prompting Stiles to keep talking. At least, that’s how Stiles is choosing to interpret it. “She seems really cool. Like a really good Alpha.” Then he recalls what Kira’s told him. “Can you switch Alphas?”

“What?” Derek pulls back to look at him, probably misinterpreting the question if the anger building in his eyes means anything. “You don’t like—?"

“No, I mean,” Stiles huffs, “Kira and her family are a part of Satomi’s pack, but she keeps talking about moving here and becoming part of your pack.” Derek bristles, but Stiles isn’t really sure why, so he keeps going. “Is that even possible?”

“Kira and Noshiko, her mother, are kitsune. Different kinds, but kitsune nonetheless,” Derek explains.

“There are different kinds of kitsune? What, like Alpha, Beta, Omega?”

“No. There are 13 kinds of kitsune: Celestial, Void, Wind, Spirit, Fire, Earth, River, Ocean, Mountain, Forest, Thunder, Time, and Sound. Kira’s a Thunder kitsune, Noshiko’s a Celestial. They’re the only two kitsune I’ve ever met, but Mom says she’s met a few more.”

“So, they can just switch Alphas? Do they even report to Alpha werewolves?”

“They can, if they choose to. They don’t have to report to anyone. Kitsune like the Yukimuras are _zenko_ , meaning they’re actually the good guys.”

“And there are bad guys, then?”

“The _yako_. They’re less common, but evil. They’re called Nogitsune.”

The name alone makes Stiles’ spine crawl.

“So,” he starts, ignoring the whole Nogitsune thing, “why even be part of a pack at all? What do the Yukimuras get from it? Or non-werewolves for that matter.”

“Pack provides safety and security, even for non-werewolves. The Yukimuras may feel a connection with whatever Alpha they align with, but they’re not as… Bound to their Alpha as werewolves are. We almost _have_ to do what our Alpha says.”

“That sounds like an issue.”

“It’s not like we don’t want to. 9 times out of 10, we obey our Alpha because we love them.”

“And the 10th time?”

“What?” Derek blinks at Stiles.

“You said 9 times out of 10. What about the 10th time?”

“That’s where Omegas are born.”

“Oh.”

Stiles turns toward the Pack, watching them laugh as they set the table and put chairs and benches in their places. He never understood Omegas. How they could just be nomadic and how, that even though it hurt them to do so, they left their pack, roamed without an Alpha. He doesn’t think he could be in pain like that, for that long.

“You’re being really talkative lately,” Stiles decides, steering away from that depressing topic. Derek gives a little shrug, finally releasing Stiles and taking his arm back. Stiles immediately misses the warmth.

“You’re being inquisitive.”

“I’m always inquisitive.”

Derek doesn’t counter that, instead going quiet. Stiles sighs, figuring that’s all he’s gonna get out of him.

They stand in silence for a while before Talia is calling everyone to dinner and the Pack is piling outside, Derek’s siblings—and _Theo_ —throwing knowing glances their way. Stiles elbows Derek’s side, jerking his head toward the tables.

“C’mon. I’ll save you a seat.”

He heads off toward the table, fully aware of Derek’s lingering gaze on his back.

+++

He and Derek end up sitting next to each other, at the table with their parents and Derek’s immediate and slightly extended family, Theo to his left, Derek to his right. And Theo keeps kicking at him and he keeps glowering at her, but it’s totally not deterring her the way it should.

Stiles still doesn’t know how Talia (and all her little helpers) managed to make as much food as they did, but he spends most the dinner being so stuffed that he feels like he can’t possibly eat anything else, although he also has to silently compete with both Theo, who is totally egging him on, and Derek, who is oblivious to the competition, trying to eat more than the both of them. Derek notices that Stiles is overloading himself half-way through and rolls his eyes, but starts eating a little faster, raising a pointed eyebrow in Stiles’ direction.

Stiles really hates him sometimes.

“Stiles,” Talia says from the head of the table. Stiles immediately puts down the forkful of mashed potatoes and peas he was trying to shovel into his mouth. Theo snickers beside him. Derek gives him an unimpressed eyebrow.

Talia soldiers ahead, not even wincing as she looks at him, which is, truly, an accomplishment right now. “I want you to officially meet the Alphas that compromise our Pack. Satomi—” Talia gestures to Satomi, who smiles knowingly at Stiles and flicks her eyebrows up in response. “—who is in charge of the Southern California territory. Then, Kali, in charge of the Washington territory.”

Kali sits at the next table over, next to a hulking mass of a man. She grins predatorily, eyes already a red-brown, without any of the werewolf stuff. She’s beautiful, but in a rip-your-spine-out kind of way. She’s also barefoot, Stiles noticed that a while ago when she sat down, and she seems to have claws for toenails, which Stiles knows for a fact that none of the Hales have, either in their human forms or their Beta shifts, so that’s kind of odd.

“Ennis, in charge of the Oregon territory.”

The hulking mass beside Kali, apparently. He raises an unimpressed eyebrow toward Stiles—and, wow, he rivals Derek in that aspect, although Derek definitely beats him in everything else, so, _take that_ —and offers him a fake half-smile. Stiles accepts it, with a fake polite head nod of his own. Ennis’ lip pulls back slightly, but he makes no sound.

“And Deucalion, in charge of the British Columbia territory.”

And Deucalion. He sits at the table with Kali and Ennis, at the end, a mock of Talia. He’s wearing sunglasses, even though the sun is practically set, but Stiles can see a hint of red behind the shades, a small smirk present on his face, like he’s just done something great. There’s a walking stick next to him, like what blind people use. Stiles didn’t notice that before.

“And you are?” Deucalion drawls in a British accent, looking incredibly intrigued. Stiles feels Derek’s leg press against his. He can basically see Derek’s hackles rise.

“I’m Stiles,” he offers, not really interested in handing out any more information than necessary. Derek’s leg stays pressed against him, but his shoulders drop a little. Theo stares pointedly at her broccoli. Stiles wonders what the big deal is.

“Stiles. That’s quite a name. And who do you belong to?”

“Myself,” Stiles bites out, feeling his eyes narrow. John tries to cover a snort, but everyone hears it. Claudia clamps her lips together, holding back a snicker.

But Deucalion just raises his hands. “I meant no harm. It’s merely a question. I question your relationship to the Pack and why you, and your lovely parents, know about the supernatural at all.”

“There is nothing to question,” Talia says from the true head of the table. Deucalion makes a little face, but Talia either can’t see it or just straight up ignores it, and given her werewolf sight, Stiles is pretty sure it’s the latter. “They are a part of our Pack and under our protection. What has come after Stiles has come after us all, and we will find and stop it.”

Spoken like an Alpha’s Alpha. Stiles feels a twinge of pride for her; she’s always been a second mom to him, and he’s always loved her. Seeing her be the boss and take charge, as she’s meant to, just solidifies the respect he has for her.

“I apologize, Alpha,” Deucalion says, but there’s no apology in his voice and his face tells another story.

Stiles is starting to see what’s wrong with Deucalion.

+++

Stiles volunteers to help with the dishes, but Talia merely looks at him like she’s looking at a child and tells him to go find Derek.

Stiles is doing just that instead, heading in from the edge of the woods where the tables were mostly set up, when he sees something dark and inky out of the corner of his eye. He turns his head to catch whatever it was, but suddenly there’s nothing but the Pack there, all familiar (or slowly turning into familiar) faces. He shakes his head, trying to wipe it like an Etch-a-Sketch.

He’s just paranoid.

He heads inside and up the back staircase, the one the practically leads into the kitchen. He’s pretty sure Derek headed up this way after dinner; he’s not as social as everyone thinks he is, much more a homebody that stays in his room and reads, even when his pack is around. Stiles knows that Derek loves them, but he also knows that he’s just more comfortable when he’s alone.

He knocks on Derek’s door, not bothering to wait for a reply before pushing his way in. Not only can Derek totally sense Stiles outside the door, but he’s already used to Stiles’ abrasive ways. No need in sugarcoating anything or being polite now.

Derek’s in bed, a book in his hands already. He raises an eyebrow when Stiles enters, but looks back down at his book, slightly moving over to make room for Stiles.

“Skipped out on the after dinner special?” Stiles jokes, taking a seat by Derek’s feet. Derek shrugs.

“It’s too many people,” he says simply. Stiles nods. And he totally gets that. He still doesn’t know how many people are in each individual pack, much less the Pack in total. But, yeah, it still feels like a lot, even for him. Stiles can’t imagine what that’s like with werewolf mojo, smelling everyone and hearing everything and doing that weird mind meld that they do.

(“It’s not a mind meld, Stiles. We just… Kind of understand what each other is feeling. Like our bond, but not as intense. It just helps you determine who’s friend and who’s foe. And don’t you dare make a dog joke about that, _Stiles_ —”)

“So what’s the deal with Deucalion? He’s clearly trying to compete to be Alpha.”

Derek snarls wordlessly. “He _thinks_ he’s better than my mother. Everyone knows it. I have no idea why she doesn’t do something about it. Every time I ask her, she just says, ‘ _We have to trust in one another, Derek. We’re all we have_.’”

“That’s not an answer,” Stiles points out.

“I know!” Derek exclaims, shutting his book and sitting up a bit more. Then he looks resigned. “But she just keeps defending him. I don’t get it.”

“Maybe there’s something to it, ya know? Like, he’s gotta provide or something for the Pack, right? Isn’t that a big thing? That everyone contributes. That’s how you guys do it,” he says, referencing the Hales. Stiles has been told several times that what works about the Hale family in particular is that, no matter their status, no one is above another. It’s why Red, even though he’s human, will always have a place at Talia’s side. It’s why Stiles is supposed to have a place at Derek’s side, why he will, if Derek will ever tolerate him long enough, or like him in any way, for them to get together.

“I guess,” Derek shrugs. Then he turns back to his book, deeming the conversation over.

Stiles will accept it, for now. He has been talking to Derek a lot in these past few days, since the Pack came into town. He’s not sure what’s so different now, because Theo’s told him before that the Pack meets at least once a year. He doesn’t think he’s seen them come to Beacon Hills, but he can’t really remember. But now Derek’s talking to him and acknowledging his presence and their bond has never felt stronger. Literally. Like, Stiles feels much better now, better than he did before. He’s scared, actually, that when the Pack leaves that he’ll be all alone again, that Derek will just slink away like he always does, and forget all about Stiles, only talking to him because they’re magically bonded, or whatever.

But Stiles doesn’t want to think about that.

He stands up and stares to peruse Derek’s room. He’s seen it a million times—the white comforter and navy curtains, the suspicious stain on his carpet that probably came from one of his siblings spilling something and not telling anyone about it (actually probably came from Stiles, if he’s being honest), the remnants of putty on his ceiling and upper walls from those glow stars like the ones that are still above Stiles’ bed—but the one thing that always draws him back is the books.

There’s really no bookshelf. Well, technically, there’s two bookshelves and a built-in cubby, but there’s no singular place for books. Even with all the storage Derek has, there’s still books littering his desk, his nightstand, his dresser, the puffy chair in the corner of the room. If Stiles had enough space, he would definitely take a page out of Derek’s book—pun emphatically intended—and fill his room with as many books as possible.

And the Hales have a library. Two, actually. That’s what always amazes Stiles, that even though there are two rooms, one being two stories, filled wall-to-wall with books about every possible subject, Derek has still managed to create his own library. His own mini haven where he can be himself, where he can lose himself in different worlds, create and build his own world.

Derek’s love for knowledge has always rivaled Stiles’. It’s just one of the things that Stiles loves about him.

He finds the supernatural section—this past summer, when Derek’s collection started getting out of hand, Stiles took it upon himself to organize the books into something kind of resembling a little library. It’s not much, but he knows that it’s easier to find what you’re looking for, that Derek secretly loves it, even though he’d never actually say that aloud, let alone to Stiles’ face—and picks out one that looks promising.

_The Modern Encyclopedia of Supernatural Creatures and Their Lore_. It should have something, anything, about whatever attacked Stiles. Besides, that’s what he needs to be focusing on. Not whether or not Derek likes him.

He flips through the pages for a while, occasionally stopping to read some of the text or wonder _is that actually real_ or look at a picture for a minute. Nothing really looks promising. Not until he gets to the N’s.

There’s only a few sentences, hardly an entry at all, but it makes Stiles’ skin crawl.

Because he thinks this might be it.

_Nalusa chito._

The soul eater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh names, scary stuff
> 
> (also, like, i continue to blend mythology like jeff davis does, so prepare for that, but hopefully not nearly as bad (no offense but i said what i said))
> 
> should henleys be capitalized? is predatorily a word? should kitsunes be kitsune or kitsunes? i don't know either i'm sorry
> 
> if there are inaccuracies let me know and i'll try to fix them! next part will be out in a couple of days
> 
> also, nothing awful this chapter! like at all! mostly like filler stuff and exposition and me pushing all my wants and hopes and dreams onto derek and the hale family. oops, but i'm not sorry
> 
> let me know if you like it!


	3. whisper tales of gore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Uh, where are we going?” Stiles asks.
> 
> “To talk to an expert.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just a short little chapter before things pick up speed, just a couple of loose ends to make that will be tied up later on, don't you worry
> 
> this chapter also has a description for a nightmare that's not necessarily vivid, but might be a little graphic, so be wary friends
> 
> unbeta'd as usual, let me know if there are mistakes!
> 
> chapter title comes from "immigrant song" from led zeppelin

He knows he freaked out. And he must have freaked Derek out, because Derek had sat up in bed and sniffed the air and asked, “Stiles?” But Stiles just mumbled out some half-assed apology and hurried out of the house. He had found his mom and dad and asked to go home immediately, and they didn’t even ask him anything, just got in the car and left. Claudia mentioned something about calling Talia later and explaining. Stiles didn’t even realize that he totally stole the book from Derek’s house.

And now he’s sitting in his bed, panting and shaking, because he just had the worst dream ever about this _thing_ eating him and his family, consuming their souls. His mom, his dad, Derek. All gone. And he’d woken up before it had started in on his friends.

He wishes he’d never opened the stupid book. Never gone outside in the first place. His face hurts, his arm hurts. He’s just so confused and terrified and paranoid. Is this even the right beast? Is this what attacked him? Will it come back? Well, of course it will, but when? It’s the waiting that terrifies him.

He belatedly realizes that the glass on his window is cracked.

He has no idea when that even happened.

And it just scares him more.

+++

“So you totally ran out yesterday,” Theo says, roughly bumping into his uninjured arm as she sidles up next to him. She’s got her hair up today, the tight little curls bouncing loosely on her neck.

“Yeah, uh, I felt really sick,” Stiles replies. It’s not technically a lie—seeing the damn nasoola chido, or whatever the hell it is, did make him feel sick—so he thinks he’s in the clear. But she wrinkles her nose.

“The waves of anxiety rolling off you right now smell awful. And you’re not lying, but you’re definitely not telling the truth.”

Stiles would call her a genius, but he feels like he’s pretty obvious, so no points for her. Still, he won’t give her the satisfaction.

“I’m sorry I left. I should’ve said goodbye.”

“Oh, it’s not me I’m worried about. It’s Derek. He was so confused and torn, poor thing, wanted to go bounding after you. Talia had to calm him down and send most of the Pack back to their hotels.”

“He was… Worried?”

Theo gives him an exasperated look. “ _Duh_ , Stilinski. You know, for how smart you are, you’re a huge dumbass.”

“Jesus, Theo, sugarcoat it, why don’t ya?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m just saying. There’s so much shit that you don’t even see.”

And Stiles has no idea what the hell that means. So he says, “Whatever,” and they drop the conversation.

+++

Derek finally corners him on his way to lunch. Stiles has managed to avoid him at every turn: every class they share, every time they pass in the hallway, before the first morning bell. And now Derek’s cornering him the bathroom, of all places.

“Oh, Jesus, really man, _here_?” Stiles has just turned from the sink and found Derek patiently waiting for him, arms crossed over his chest.

“What happened last night?”

It’s a Hale thing, he thinks, being rude and direct.

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb, Stiles.”

“I-I started to feel sick, so I had to go. Didn’t want everyone to smell our dinner a second and less appetizing time, ya know?” He tries to side-step Derek. Derek just steps into his path.

“I don’t believe you.”

“But you can hear I’m not lying,” Stiles points out.

Derek grits his teeth. “But you’re not telling the truth.”

Really, he and Theo are basically the same person. Maybe that’s why Stiles likes her so much. Huh.

Stiles sighs. “Derek, I’m not sure what you want from me. I honestly don’t even understand why you’re here to begin with.”

Derek’s eyebrows knit together. “Why I’m here?” he echoes.

“Yeah,” Stiles nods, “it’s not like you’ve cared before.”

Derek gets angry suddenly, letting out a little snarl and stepping closer to Stiles. “What are you even talking about?”

“You don’t care about me? I’m not sure how I could be clearer. _You’ve_ made it abundantly clear.”

“Jesus, Stiles, I—”

“You always avoid me and don’t talk to me or look at me and you always _feel_ angry and—”

“Of course I care about you, you idiot,” Derek bites out, grabbing Stiles’ wrists to stop his windmilling hands. Stiles stops talking. “I’ve always cared about you. You’re just too dense to realize it.”

“I resent that,” Stiles says, but hesitates, considering what Derek’s said. “You care? Then, why don’t you show it?”

“People show their feelings differently, Stiles, honestly I thought you’d understand that more than anyone.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Stiles pulls his wrists from Derek.

“It means that you’re usually smart and perceptive. But sometimes you’re a blind ass.”

“Uh, ouch.” Stiles acts mock hurt, mainly because he’s still confused by Derek and doesn’t want to think about what his words could possibly mean. “That’s ableism.”

“Shut the fuck up, Stiles,” Derek groans, turning and heading out of the restroom. Stiles scrambles after him.

He hopes Derek doesn’t realize that he’s artfully dodged his question.

+++

But he does. Because he all but ushers Stiles into his car after school and locks the doors and starts driving, hardly saying a word.

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” Stiles demands, crossing his arms over his chest, a least a bit happy to be back in the Camaro again, despite everything else.

“Not until you tell me what happened last night,” Derek replies simply. Stiles groans, throwing his hands out.

“Dude, I already told you—”

“Don’t call me dude. And you lied to me.”

“I didn’t lie—”

“You didn’t tell the truth.”

He has no argument for that one. He crosses his arms over his chest again, huffing. Maybe he should tell Derek. Not everything, no, but about the nasula chito, sure. Maybe about what he saw in the woods. Or, rather, what he _thought_ he saw, because he doesn’t really trust his mind right now.

“There…” He sighs. “Last night, after dinner, I thought I saw something in the woods.”

The car jerks as Derek turns to look at Stiles, eyes wide. Stiles yells at him and the car gets back into place. A little silver car passes them, beeping angrily.

“Hold on, you _saw_ something in the woods?”

“Yeah. Well, no, I—I thought I saw something in the woods. It could’ve been nothing. I could’ve just been paranoid. But then, this morning, when I woke up from—” He definitely doesn’t want to tell Derek about his nightmares, how embarrassing would that be? “—you know, when I woke up, my window was cracked.”

“Cracked?” The word holds so much malice.

“Yeah, just a little hairline fracture, but definitely a crack. I also could’ve run into it. I’ve done that, like, a thousand times. Granted, it’s never really cracked before…”

Derek goes silent, seemingly thinking, before he makes a decisive U-turn and starts to speed.

“Uh, where are we going?” Stiles asks.

“To talk to an expert.”

+++

The vet clinic stands alone in a somewhat empty parking lot. Derek pushes Stiles inside, a scowl on his face. But it’s not his usual I-can’t-believe-you-exist scowl, it’s a this-situation-is-utterly-serious scowl. And it puts Stiles on edge.

There’s only two people inside when they enter: a middle-aged man with a turtle and an older woman with an orange tabby cat. They both look up at the boys, but neither say anything. Derek ignores them in favor of ringing the service bell loudly and several times in a row.

“I’ll be with you in just a moment—” Deaton says, a little exasperated, as he rounds the corner, but his words die out when he sees Derek and Stiles together, both looking very much not okay, judging by the microscopic crease in Deaton’s brow.

“Stiles. Derek,” he greets, removing the latex gloves from his hands. “How can I help you?”

“Stiles needs to talk to you. Now.”

There’s no room for argument in his voice. It reminds Stiles of Talia, of the Alpha in her. He thinks that if Laura wasn’t supposed to become Alpha when Talia finally retires, that it would totally go to Derek. He’s a natural leader. Surly and grumpy, sure, but there’s a spark in him, something that calls for him to help others, to show them the way.

Deaton blinks, glances at his two other patients, and then opens the little gate for them, motioning them through. Derek waits for Stiles to enter before stalking after him.

They go into his office, a brick-walled room with several bookshelves and glass cabinets, holding all sorts of different herbs and ancient-looking books. Derek wrinkles his nose when he enters.

“It smells like magic,” he notes. Deaton raises an eyebrow and closes the door behind them, going over to take a seat on the edge of his desk.

“Yes, well, I believe that would be the magic.”

Stiles snorts. He likes this guy already.

“Now, Mr. Stilinski, what is it that you needed to talk about? Is this a problem you couldn’t go to Talia with?”

“More like it fits into your area of expertise,” Derek says. Deaton raises his eyebrow again, this time directed at Stiles. Stiles fiddles with his flannel.

“Well, it’s not really—”

“Just tell him, Stiles,” Derek says exasperated.

He’s not even sure what he’s supposed to be telling Deaton, but he basically repeats what he’d told Derek. Deaton’s face remains unchanged, but he does clasp his hands together.

“Well, that’s certainly interesting.”

Derek furrows his brows. “That’s all you have to say.”

Deaton gives a half-shrug. “I’m not sure what else there is to say, Mr. Hale. It sounds like paranoia, I think. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“ _Paranoia_? You wouldn’t _worry_ about it?” Derek scoffs. “There’s something out there stalking Stiles and you’re telling him to not worry about it?”

“Mr. Hale, I’m not sure acknowledging it will make the situation any better. Not until we find out what it is.”

“And are you even looking?”

“Derek,” Stiles tries, but Derek won’t look at him, too busy being angry at Deaton.

“Of course I am.”

Derek huffs and turns away. Stiles throws an apologetic look toward Deaton, but it’s merely waved away.

“If there are any more developments, do not hesitate to tell me. For the meantime, try not to think about it. It will only make everything worse.”

Stiles doesn’t know what that means, but he just nods and grabs Derek’s arm.

“Thanks, doc,” he says, pulling Derek out of the clinic.

+++

Derek’s still upset, but not enough so to let Stiles drive.

They ride back to Stiles’ house in relative silence, both too wrapped up in their own thoughts to pay attention to each other. It’s not until Derek is parking in front of Stiles’ house and Stiles is getting ready to get out, that Derek stops him with a hand on his wrist.

Stiles looks up at him. Derek looks conflicted.

“Look, until this _thing_ is found, I want you to stay with me as much as possible.”

“What?” Stiles doesn’t quite understand what Derek’s saying.

“Just… Don’t go into the woods and call me or text me if anything happens. And we’ll spend the afternoons together, or whatever. But don’t go off alone. _Please_.”

It’s the please that destroys him.

He stares at Derek, the boy he’s known for almost all of his life, and, for one of the first times, sees something like genuine fear. This boy that he spent Halloweens with, dressed up like superheroes and trading candy. This boy that he played on the swings with, broke his arm with when he tried to jump off and do a cool flip. This boy that he’s had sleepovers with, that he’s watched movies with, that he’s grow to like and care for deeply. This boy is terrified for Stiles’ life.

The thought is a little earth-shattering.

“Do you actually think it’ll…?” He doesn’t need to finish his sentence. Derek gets it.

He shakes his head. “No. I won’t let it.”

Not “ _we”_. But “ _I”_.

It makes Stiles warm all over.

“Okay,” he says.

Derek smiles at him, a small and terrified smile, but a smile nonetheless. Stiles smiles back.

And that’s that.

+++

A week passes with no real incident.

Stiles spends most of his time with Derek, not necessarily hanging out, but rather being in protective detail. Derek is his usual surly and grumpy self, but he opens up a little bit more for Stiles, like he’s compensating or something.

The Pack is still in town, though they’ve sent some of their members home; apparently they took a vow to help spare whatever members they could to find this shadow thing, which Stiles does kind of appreciate. But Talia is still on edge and Deaton has no answers yet, and Stiles is slowly losing his mind. Every night he’s having nightmares. It’s just like before: that _thing_ is chasing him through the dark woods, its body fading out like a smoke trail, red eyes glowing. When it finally catches him—and it always does—it claws him to the ground before standing over him and grinning with non-existent teeth. He can’t move. And then he hears his family, his friends, everyone he’s ever loved. They’re all screaming for help, and he can hear them crying. One by one, their screams burn out before they die horrifically and painfully, the beast sucking the life out of them after torturing them. Stiles sees everything. When it’s finally his turn, he wakes up.

Every. Night.

It weighs on him, seeing all that death and destruction over and over again. He’s exhausted and he sees the thing every time he closes his eyes.

Derek notices, because of course he does. He asks Stiles about it too, several times, but Stiles just gives him bullshit vague excuses that don’t raise his heartbeat, so Derek has little choice but to just accept it. He does, however, nudge against Stiles and run his fingers along Stiles’ knuckles and the insides of his wrists and sniffs subtly into his temple. And it’s driving Stiles crazy.

“Can you, just, not do that?” He says, pulling away from Derek as he’s nosing behind Stiles’ ear. They’re in Stiles’ room, because Stiles couldn’t be around people today. Although Derek didn’t really get that—or didn’t care, more likely—and followed him home. Stiles had sat down on his bed to do some homework about an hour ago, and ever since then Derek’s been glued to his side, occasionally leaning over to rub against him or sniff or whatever. Stiles loves it, but he’s confident that Derek’s only doing it to make him feel better, and all it’s doing is making him feel worse.

“What?” Derek pulls away, but furrows his eyebrows. Their legs are still pressed together, hip to knee.

“The whole…” Stiles gestures around his left ear where Derek’s been sniffing. “It’s… Annoying.”

Derek’s brows furrow more, but he nods. “I’m sorry,” he says tersely, pulling his legs away too and standing up. Stiles’ left side immediately feels cold. He sighs.

“I just mean—I’m trying to do homework and every couple of minutes I hear you sniffing right against my ear. It’s not like I don’t like it.”

Oh, yeah, he definitely didn’t mean to say _that_.

He blushes and looks pointedly down at his computer. He misses Derek’s dumbfounded look. Instead, he clears his throat and starts working again. After a minute, Derek lays down, half of his body curled against Stiles’, and takes a nap.

Stiles thinks it’s probably the most at peace he’s felt all week.

+++

His window keeps fracturing. More and more every night, and he’s not really sure why. He doesn’t tell Derek and always closes his curtains when anyone comes into his room. Every morning, he’ll open the curtains to check to see if any new cracks have been made, marking them with a red marker. Now, a week and a half after the first crack, there are ten new cracks.

He still doesn’t know what’s going on.

+++

As the second week is approaching, his window shatters. He wakes up in the middle of the night to the glass breaking. Oddly, it’d come at a time when his nightmare was getting really bad (Derek’s death was particularly gruesome this time around), but it immediately snapped him out of his reverie, letting out a short shout at the suddenness of it all. He sits there staring at the window. There’s no glass inside his room, other than on the window sill. Meaning it was broken from the inside.

And, _holy shit it was broken from the inside._

He decides enough is enough and stays up the rest of the night, anxiously waiting for dawn. Thankfully, his parents never came in or heard him shout or the window breaking because he’s not even sure what he would have said. He doesn’t know how to explain any of this.

When he gets to school, he brushes Derek and Theo off to find Scott, making a beeline for his locker. They typically meet at the front of the school, but he can’t bring himself to wait. Besides, he’s riding on about three hours of sleep and he needs to move to stay awake.

Scott is picking books out of his locker when Stiles approaches. He smiles immediately, but it slinks away when he sees the expression on Stiles’ face.

“What happened?” Scott demands, getting serious. Stiles loves him more than he can say.

“Are you free tonight? I need you to be free tonight.”

“I can be,” Scott nods decisively. Stiles echoes his nod, starting to get lost in his thoughts, thinking about his window and dark inky hands reaching for him. “Uh, what for, though?”

Stiles blinks and comes back down to Earth. He’s hesitant to tell Scott about what’s actually happening, but he’s kind of asking something big. So he chooses a middle ground.

“Something broke my window and I want to find out what it was.”

Scott laughs nervously and then realizes Stiles is serious.

“Uh, shouldn’t you get Derek or something?”

Stiles furrows his eyebrows. “Why would I get Derek?”

“Because he’s much bigger and stronger than me, as much as I hate to admit it. He’s more of a protector, or whatever.”

“Yeah, but you’re my best friend.”

Scott blinks and then grins dopily.

“Yeah, okay.”

And it’s settled.

+++

Stiles manages to artfully dodge the Hales, only giving them the bare minimum of attention. He knows that Theo and Derek can tell something’s wrong, but they don’t directly ask, instead sharing looks with each other or trying to push themselves closer to Stiles, to scent him.

He refuses Derek’s protective detail for the night, saying that he and Scott haven’t spent much time together lately and they want a bro day alone. Derek begrudgingly agrees, making him promise to text if _anything_ happens.

Stiles tells Scott to come over after dinner, tells his mom that he and Scott are just gonna hang out in his room. When they get to his room, Stiles pulls the curtain aside and gestures to the shattered glass.

“It’s been fracturing for almost two weeks. Then last night it just broke. But look, all the glass is outside the window, not inside.”

Scott looks at him. “Meaning?”

Stiles rolls his eyes. He loves Scott, really he does, but sometimes he just fails to use his brain. “ _Meaning_ it was broken from the inside. If it had been broken from the outside, say by a rock or a bird or something, all the glass would be inside.”

“Oh.” Scott’s eyes widen. “ _Oh_. Whoa. How the hell did that happen?”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

Scott nods, fiddling with the zipper of his jacket. “Okay, but what could have done that? I mean, like, maybe you just were sleep-walking again—remember you used to do that?—and accidentally knocked something out of the window or maybe you—”

“Do you actually believe that?” Stiles raises an eyebrow. “There’s nothing outside the window but glass, I haven’t slept-walked, or whatever, since I was, like, 14, and how does that explain the fractures?”

“Okay, well, there’s a lot of holes, but I don’t know what you’re looking for. What do you even think we’ll find out there?”

Stiles sighs. He’s not sure how to even convince Scott to follow him. He can’t tell him the truth, because it’s not his truth to tell. He can’t put the Hales at risk like that, or Satomi or Kira or anyone. He trusts Scott completely, but Scott has a tendency to blab without meaning to, and Stiles refuses to saddle him with all this knowledge, a burden he doesn’t need to bear. And he can’t put Scott at risk like this either, bringing him out to the woods where something is probably waiting for Stiles, but definitely won’t hesitate to take any prisoners. He should’ve never asked Scott, because now he doesn’t know how to protect him.

“You know what? Never mind. Let’s just call it a night, yeah?” Stiles moves to brush past Scott, but Scott grabs a hold of his elbow.

“Whoa, what? What are you talking about?”

“Let’s just forget about it, okay?” Stiles tries to shake Scott off but his grip is too strong.

“No way, hold up. Why are you acting like that? What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Scott, just drop it.”

“No.” Scott gets all serious again, holding Stiles tightly in place. “You’ve been acting weird for a while and I didn’t say anything because I knew you didn’t want to talk about it, but you’re really starting to worry me. I mean, you’re all paranoid and jumpy and one day you show up with all these bruises and cuts and you just pretend like nothing happened? That’s not you. You’re my best friend and I want to help you, but you have to tell me what’s going on.”

Stiles blinks, swallows the guilt welling up in his throat. He hasn’t been the greatest friend to Scott recently, but it’s kind of hard with all the Pack stuff and the ink monster or neslo cheeto or whatever. He deserves somewhat of an explanation.

“Something attacked me,” he admits. “I don’t know what it was. But I think it’s what broke my window and I can’t tell Derek.”

“Why?”

“He’ll worry too much.”

“Stiles, this is something to be worried about.”

“Yeah, but…” He sighs. “Derek is so dramatic about everything. Listen, I’m not sure what we’ll find if we go out there, but it’s probably not going to be good. And it’ll probably be dangerous. And I don’t wanna say we might die, but we might die.”

“Stiles, I’d go anywhere with you.”

Stiles feels his throat doing that thing again and, damn, he must be allergic to something in his room because his eyes are definitely wet right now. But he blinks it away and throws his arms around Scott, pulling him into a tight hug.

Scott laughs and hugs him back. Then he pulls away and punches his not-hurt arm.

“Also, if you ever try to shut me out again to protect me, I won’t hesitate to strangle you.”

  
Stiles snorts. “Yeah, if you can reach me.”

“First of all, it’s one fucking inch, Stiles, and I am prepared to jump—”

Stiles shoves him away, laughing.

At least he knows that, no matter what happens, Scott will always have his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stiles keeps purposely getting the nalusa chito's name wrong, btw, that's not me being a dumbass, this is just how he processes things
> 
> if you don't know what a nalusa chito is, that's okay! we will talk about it later and where it comes from and all that, don't worry friends
> 
> also, everyone is like a couple inches shorter in this (except the wolves) because i wanted to emphasis that they're high school students and like most of the time, when you're in high school, you're not done growing. so that's why i reference that, just by the way
> 
> also stiles is a dumbass, nothing can be done
> 
> next chapter will be out in a couple of days and i am so excited for that one, it's gonna be great y'all, can't wait for you to read it!
> 
> thanks, also, for all your love and support, really means a lot!


	4. we will find you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Stiles, nothing bad is going to happen, dude. It’s Beacon Hills,” Scott huffs a laugh and turns to keep walking onward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the chapter i've been waiting for is finally here! here we go!
> 
> sorry for the somewhat delay, i had a busy/rough day, but it's all good now!
> 
> slight descriptions of violence and tiny bit of gore, but nothing more than canon-typical violence. and LOTS of fluff. or, like, a good amount i think. shit's cute, anyway
> 
> chapter title comes from "everybody wants to rule the world" by tears for fears

They head out to the woods behind Stiles’ house around 8, when Claudia’s already gone to her room to grade papers and watch trash television. He’s not really sure where to start, because he has absolutely no leads other than the glass, and it’s not like it goes much further than just below the window. Some pieces are tossed a little further towards the trees, but not in the way that something had jumped through the window, more like the wind probably picked them up or something.

Stiles has never had a problem with the woods, not the way other little kids did. He always liked going out there, sometimes wandering off just by himself, finding a tall tree and laying against the bark, looking up at the canopy. He always felt peaceful in nature, the constant thrumming under his skin and the knotted mess in his mind coming to a halt when surrounded by the foliage and the quiet.

Then, sometimes, there would be little wolfed-out cubs chasing each other, giggling around a mouthful of surprisingly sharp fangs, yellow eyes glowing like fireflies. They would run past Stiles, growling and occasionally snapping playfully at him, always half-clothed. Theo would always try to drag him along, but he couldn’t keep up with the wolves, so he typically opted to stay behind. Derek would pause every time he ran past to sniff in Stiles’ direction, give a contented head nod, and run away.

The woods made him feel at peace then, and, despite all that’s happened recently, still do.

He’s not nervous to go traipsing about with Scott, not necessarily.

And yet.

There’s something out here, something that’s after _him_. For whatever reason, this thing is hungry for him and him alone and it won’t stop until it has its shadowy hand around his throat. And he’s just brought Scott—poor, innocent, naïve Scott—his best fucking friend—out here with him. So, what? So they can die together?

God, he’s an idiot. He needs to call this whole thing off before they go any further, no matter what Scott has already promised. He can’t let someone he loves get hurt because of him. That would just be the last straw.

He stops suddenly and grabs Scott’s arm to pull him to a stop. They’ve been wandering aimlessly for the past half hour or so, not really speaking to each other and not knowing what to look for. Stiles can’t let this continue though. He won’t.

“We should just head back,” he says, holding tightly onto Scott. “I just… I don’t think this is—I have a bad feeling about this.”

He does, sitting low in his gut. He feels nauseated and a little dizzy and something inside of him is screaming to turn around. He, dumbly and desperately, wishes Derek was here, wonders if Derek can feel that through the bond.

“Stiles, nothing bad is going to happen, dude. It’s Beacon Hills,” Scott huffs a laugh and turns to keep walking onward. The words fill Stiles’ stomach with lead. He shakes his head.

“No, Scott, really—”

He’s cut off by a low growl, like the kind he heard Cora make when Laura took the last rib during dinner a few weeks back. Except this isn’t like that at all. This isn’t normal and casual sibling anger; this is deep, violent rage that’s barely being reined in. This is something that wants them dead.

_Him_ dead. It’s coming for _him_ , it’s coming for Stiles.

He feels the hair stand up on the back of his neck and everything feels like it’s moving so slowly. He sees the large figure off to the right, two glowing red eyes tracking them, and it looks so… Demonic, so monstrous. However, it doesn’t quite look like the nalusa chito, the thing from before. Nothing like a werewolf, either, at least, not any werewolf Stiles has ever seen.

And then it starts running and Stiles knows that they can’t outrun a werewolf or whatever it may be and so he tries to tackle Scott, but Scott does this weird twist and suddenly Stiles is falling behind Scott who is standing upright and then it’s barreling into Scott and Stiles feels this air pass by him, like something was grabbing at him or reaching for him, and all he can hear are his own screams.

As soon as he hits the ground, he immediately scrambles up onto his knees and crawls over to Scott, who’s alive and not currently being devoured, thank fucking God. Stiles drops into a protective crouch over Scott and looks around trying to see if he can see the thing but it’s just gone, completely vanished.

“Scott! Scott, are you okay? Scott!” He takes Scott’s face in his hands, trying to make sure he’s not too injured. He didn’t see any blood with his first cursory glance, but he might need to check again.

“I’m—agh, my back,” Scott groans, rolling towards Stiles to grab at his lower back. Stiles helps turn him and raises his shirt to see the damage.

There’s a bite mark on his back that’s slowly dripping rivulets of blood.

Stiles goes cold.

That’s not from a shadow.

That’s from a wolf. A _werewolf_. Whatever just came at them was some kind of twisted werewolf, and an Alpha at that, considering the red eyes, which means—

_Oh God._

Stiles feels his breath coming out in quick little pants and he can’t seem to calm himself down. He did this. Scott just got bit by a fucking werewolf because of him. It wasn’t reaching for him, it was trying to bite him and it ended up biting Scott. The one thing he didn’t want to happen—the one thing he couldn’t let happen—just happened and it’s all his fault.

He’s the real monster here.

“Stiles? What is it?” Scott asks below him, trying to blindly feel the wound. Stiles mostly breaks himself out of his panic because Scott needs him right now and he can’t fail him anymore. He takes a deep breath, vowing to deal with that guilt later.

“It’s, um, shit, Scott, you—”

A howl rings out through the forest, one full of sorrow and anger and worry, and Stiles knows exactly who it is and he thanks God someone is going to come help him, because he has no idea what to do.

“Shit, there’s more of… Whatever freaking attacked us. Stiles, we need to move!” Scott tries to sit up, but Stiles doesn’t shift away.

“No, no, those are the good guys. That’s D—that’s good—they’re good. They’re coming to help us,” Stiles assures him, though he does now shift so Scott can get to his feet.

Scott gives him a weird look when he stands, one hand resting near his back, but huffs and pulls out his inhaler with his other hand, shaking it. Stiles shakes his head.

“You won’t, uh, you won’t be needing that anymore, dude,” he says, though it comes out too cryptic and Scott just gives him another weird look.

“What are you talking about?”

“You know, you’re taking this like a champ. If I had just gotten bit like that, I definitely would’ve been down for the count for a while.”

“Bit?!” Scott nearly shrieks. “I got bit?!”

Stiles winces both internally and externally. “Only a little bit?” Then, despite himself and the horrible situation, Stiles snorts. “Ha! Get it? ‘ _Bit’_?”

“I’m gonna have rabies!” Scott shrieks again.

“That is… _So_ not your biggest concern right now,” Stiles says right as the wolves come running up. Talia is fully shifted, but everyone else is in their Beta forms, including Derek, who’s leading the charge. And when he sees Stiles, he rushes up to him and sweeps him into his arms like this is some raunchy novel housewives read.

“What the _fuck_?!” Scott yelps and scrambles backwards, dropping his inhaler in his haste. Stiles would answer if his arms weren’t full of a massive man-child werewolf who’s quite busy squeezing him and inhaling the little crevice of his neck that makes him want to simultaneously collapse in a heap of lust, and giggle because it really tickles.

“Derek, I’m fine,” Stiles mumbles, even though he doesn’t feel it and doesn’t entirely understand why Derek’s being so clingy. He can only really pat Derek’s sides from where his arms are crushed in between their bodies, but he tries to stroke him in a calming matter.

“What the hell happened?” Grant’s voice asks. Stiles can’t see anything but he imagines this is all going over swimmingly.

“Really, it was just—”

“Some freaking wolf-monster thing just freaking bit me and now the—Hale family is here with a new random and docile??—wolf looking like extras on some B-horror movie including Stiles’ kind of boyfriend that we’re not supposed to talk about and where the hell are his eyebrows?!” Scott interrupts and Stiles doesn’t know if he means Derek’s eyebrows or someone else’s but he snorts anyway. Then the boyfriend part processes and he blushes furiously, thankful that no one can see his face right now.

“ _Bit_ you?” That’s Laura. “Something bit you?” Stiles can practically hear the wolves piecing it all together and he sobers up.

“Look,” Stiles starts and pushes Derek away from him, which only takes about half the effort he thought it would take, though Derek doesn’t go far. But now Stiles can face both the Pack and Scott with Derek clinging onto his side and back, so he counts it as a win. “We were in the woods and we were just—uh, we were walking around the woods and this thing came out of nowhere and tried to attack us and I tried to push Scott out of the way but he just stood there—”

“ _Me_?!”

“—yes, you, you idiot, you know exactly what you did. And, anyway, it bit him. But it wasn’t like any werewo—” He stops himself because he doesn’t want to say the word, it isn’t his secret to tell, even if everyone is standing here half-shifted, or fully-shifted in Talia’s case.

Speaking of, he sees her shift back into her human form out of the corner of his eye and she accepts a robe that Laura offers out to her.

“I think you can say it, Stiles, at this point,” she says elegantly and Stiles sees Scott staring at her with his mouth hung open and his eyes wide.

“Have some class, McCall, that’s Cora’s mom,” he teases without thinking, not really meaning to embarrass Scott in front of the entire Pack, but oh well. Some members of the Pack start snickering and Scott’s face turns bright red and he angrily starts toward Stiles but is stopped only by Derek’s low growling. He backs up, a little terrified. Stiles immediately hits Derek’s chest to make him stop and thankfully he does.

“Stiles, what were you saying?” Talia brings him back to the conversation. Stiles’ slightly jovial mood disappears once more.

“Right, um, it just… It wasn’t like any werewolf I’ve ever seen. It wasn’t like any were-creature I’ve ever seen either. I’ve just… Never seen anything like that before.” He ignores Scott’s surprised look of disbelief.

Talia hums and the wolves around her look amongst themselves. Then she turns to Scott and approaches him slowly, as if not to frighten him.

“Does it still hurt?” she asks, gesturing toward his bite. Stiles figures she can probably smell the blood, they probably all can.

Scott shrugs a shoulder and shifts around a bit. “I mean, the pain is starting to go away, but it stings.”

Stiles knows what that means before anyone has to say it, has known from the moment Scott had got bitten because he didn’t immediately get sick.

The bite took.

Scott’s transforming.

He doesn’t know if he’s happy or sad to hear it. Doesn’t know if it makes it better or worse.

“Scott,” Talia says carefully, placatingly, “we have a lot to talk about. Will you come to my house and I can help clean and dress that wound for you? We can discuss everything there.”

Scott hesitates, looking at Stiles. Stiles tries to nod and give him a positive smile, but he thinks it comes off a little strained. Scott looks back to Talia.

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees, nodding. “But we have to find my inhaler first. My mom will kill me if I lose it.”

Talia laughs brightly and nods. “Of course, we’ll find your inhaler. Would you go stand with Cora and the others for a bit? I promise none of them will bite.”

Scott laughs a little humorlessly at the wordplay but consents, walking over to Cora and staring at her face for a couple seconds before nodding to himself and dropping his gaze. Stiles feels like he could cry.

He didn’t want this, he didn’t want any of this. He’s so _stupid_.

“Will the rest of you join me over here?” Talia calls to the Pack, and Stiles doesn’t know who exactly she’s talking to until the other Alphas step closer to her and Stiles and Derek. They’ve all shifted back to their human forms, but the rest of the Pack seems content to chill as their weird Beta forms. Stiles wonders what Derek looks like right now, but he deems that as currently not important enough to turn around for, despite the fact that he really, really wants to.

“Whoever bit the boy was obviously an Alpha. And their scent appears to be masked…” Talia trails off, staring pointedly at the four Alphas before her.

“Uh, how can you tell their scent was masked?” Stiles asks. Derek’s grip around his shoulders drops to around his waist and he pulls Stiles tightly against him. Stiles allows this even though it makes his heart race a little, which he knows everyone can probably hear and boy howdy, is that embarrassing. He prays they chalk it up to fear.

“The bite would smell,” Talia replies. Stiles makes a face.

“Creepy,” he mumbles.

She smiles faintly and continues. “It would faintly smell like the Alpha who bit them, as they would be marking their territory, so to speak. Making their claim.”

“Oh, so not at _all_ as creepy as it originally sounded,” he replies sarcastically. Derek huffs a breath of laughter against his temple and Stiles decides he really likes it when he almost dies because it makes Derek incredibly clingy and borderline romantic.

Talia smiles like she can’t help herself and shakes her head at him lovingly. Then she turns back to her Alphas and puts on her serious face again. Stiles’ respect for her just keeps growing.

“No one masks their scent better than Satomi,” Ennis, of all people, suggests. Kali and Deucalion both shoot him looks, but Ennis doesn’t seem to care or notice. Satomi stands there, small only in height and with her chin raised like a poised queen. Then Kali and Deucalion share a look and turn back to face Talia.

“That’s true,” Kali assents, crossing her arms over her chest. “I know I can’t hide my scent like that.”

Talia stares a Kali for a beat before looking to Deucalion.

“Deucalion, do you agree with this claim?” she asks, though it almost sounds like, _Will you too sacrifice a fellow Alpha to save your own hide_?

Deucalion doesn’t hesitate.

“Yes.”

Stiles feels his body run cold for a second time that night, at the finality of the statement, the way it rings through the woods like a death sentence. Maybe that’s exactly what it is.

“Satomi,” Talia calls after a moment’s hesitation. “Do you have anything you would like to say to these claims? Can you disprove them?”

“No, I cannot disprove them. Masking my scent is an ability of mine, I will not deny that,” Satomi replies gracefully. Talia nods like she knows this, too, but she seems to also be at a loss for what to do.

“Alpha, if I may,” Deucalion starts, stepping forward so that he is closer to Talia. “I suggest that we put her on trial, for violating our Pack Treaty. It is from my understanding that you may not violate this request and that the trial must be fulfilled in the most just and swift fashion. Are those not the rules that you yourself have signed to? Are you not bound by Pack Treaty to obey this request?”

Deucalion, Stiles realizes, speaks as though he is arguing, like he has something important to argue about, constantly. He also reminds Stiles of Derek’s Uncle Peter, if Peter was a helluva lot creepier and British. Speaking of, Peter should definitely be here for this. Stiles didn’t think whatever supernatural business trip he’s on right now would take that long and yet Stiles hasn’t seen that slimy bastard in, like, three weeks or something.

This might be the perfect time to call him. A long time ago, Peter gave Stiles his number in case he ever really needed him, in case he was in a bind and it was dire. But calling him means that he’d have to, you know, call Peter and, well, he’s not sure the situation’s that desperate yet. Besides, they have enough Alphas here as it is.

Talia shows no emotion to Deucalion, but Stiles can only guess what she’s feeling, can almost feel it through his bond with Derek and Derek’s familial-pack bond with his mother. He thinks it might be fear.

“You’re right, of course, Deucalion. There will be a trial at once to determine Satomi’s guilt. I will act as Judge—”

“Oh no, but that’s too partial, Great Alpha. We must choose someone fair and unbiased. How about Ennis? He has no loyalties to anyone but you, Alpha. Surely, he will be just with his ruling,” Deucalion suggests.

The Pack, or more specifically the members of Deucalion’s pack and maybe even Ennis’ or Kali’s, are murmuring, their voices growing louder as they discuss God knows what about the series of events unfolding. Stiles can feel the situation slipping out of Talia’s grasp and so can Derek, if the way his grip tightens even more on Stiles is anything to go by.

“But of course,” Talia agrees, smiling calmly. “I will choose someone impartial, then. It can be an outsider, someone with no influence.”

“An outsider? Discussing our Pack’s issues? That is near treason—"

“Near treason would be willfully hurting a member of this Pack or attempting to take an innocent life,” Talia reminds coolly, hands clasped in front of her and a pointed expression on her face. “To ask for an outsider’s judgement is graciously accepting help when it is needed. I will choose a Judge tomorrow and we will more appropriately plan for the trial then. Tonight, there is a boy to help and our Pack needs rest for the day ahead. Everyone, please, return back to your homes for the night. We will need our strength; there are still many questions to be had and answers to be discovered.”

With that, Talia commands the attention and returns to her position as Great Alpha, and the Pack turns and heads back the direction they came, Scott following alongside Cora, and Stiles just knows that he’s already asking her a bunch of stupid questions that Stiles wishes he could be there to help answer and laugh at. The Alphas all leave Talia with a head bow, except for Satomi, who takes her hand and squeezes it gently, before heading off after the Pack.

Talia exhales slowly and turns to look at Stiles.

“Are you all right?” She asks. He wonders why the hell _she’s_ asking _him_ that, when _he_ should be asking _her_.

“Are _you_?”

Talia huffs a laugh and shrugs her shoulders. It’s times like these, whenever Stiles catches her alone or with her immediate family and not having to attend to Serious Pack Issues, that he sees just how young she is. Technically, she’s not that young, because werewolves age differently and she’s supposedly a lot older than her driver’s license says, but she’s still kinda young for a werewolf and Stiles imagines that if she wasn’t the Great Alpha of the Pack and everything, that she’d be a lot more relaxed and cool. She’s cool now, but it always seems like something is looming over her and Stiles hates seeing her like that. She’s a second mom to him; he can’t imagine how he’d feel seeing his own mom look so stressed all the time. Though he imagines Claudia would handle it the same way that Talia does: with dignity and grace, like a motherfuckin’ boss.

“We’ll be fine, Stiles,” she replies, talking about the Pack before herself, like she always does. It’s admirable, but Stiles is concerned about her, too.

“I know we will. You’re our Alpha.”

He’s never before included himself with their pack, at least not verbally, and the distinction makes Talia straighten and stare at him with weird mom expression on her face. Stiles thinks it’s something like pride, just significantly more intense. And then she comes forward and wraps him, and subsequently Derek, in a big bear hug and kisses Stiles’ forehead.

“And I will protect you,” she promises, lips against his skin. Then she pulls back, runs a gentle hand over both their cheeks, and turns and starts back the way she came.

“Don’t forget Scott’s inhaler, Derek,” she calls over her shoulder. “And be back at the house by breakfast, please.”

Stiles furrows his eyebrows and turns to look up at Derek, who no longer has his face smushed against Stiles’ head, though his grip isn’t any looser. Derek is just staring down at Stiles like he’s just said something wonderful, even though Stiles wasn’t the last person to speak.

“Why is she telling you to be back at the house by breakfast? Where are you going tonight?” Stiles asks, confused by the statement and choosing the safer route than determining what Derek’s facial expressions mean. Derek finally snorts after a long moment, like he’s reverting back to himself, and looks away from Stiles, shaking his head.

“You’re an idiot, Stiles,” he says and Stiles would say it almost sounds fond, if he didn’t know any better. Derek, at last, relinquishes his grip on Stiles’ waist and turns and jogs away a few feet. Stiles stares after him and definitely doesn’t stare when he bends down and retrieves something in the foliage. It’s Scott’s inhaler, he realizes as Derek pockets it, and has to snort at the stupidity of that. Scott got bit by a werewolf and was concerned about getting back his inhaler so his mom wouldn’t yell at him. But Stiles does get it though, those things are expensive.

Derek jogs back to his side and deftly takes Stiles’ hand in his, using their new connection to pull Stiles forward and away from the woods. Stiles thinks that he might follow anywhere Derek leads him, and that’s a scary fucking thought in and of itself.

“Are you taking me back to my house?” Stiles asks, though that’s probably a stupid question because, like, where else would they be going after all that, freaking Dairy Queen?

“Yes, Stiles,” Derek sighs like he’s immensely and deeply burdened. Stiles rolls his eyes. Well, at least he isn’t broken. No, thank God he didn’t get stuck with sweet, concerned-for-Stiles’-well-being Derek, who likes to sniff his neck and nuzzle his temple. No, that would have been a _travesty_. Thank the Almighty he’s back with sour, sarcastic Derek who can only speak in caveman grunts and Eyebrow Sign Language. That’s the good shit right there.

“Great, thank you so much for help, Derek. You know, you really are as great as they say.” Derek says nothing to this and so Stiles takes that as a cue to keep talking, which is really what he does best. He clears his throat and tries his best gravelly voice, trying to get it as deep and dumb-sounding as he can. “‘ _Oh, but of course, Stiles, always here to lend a hand. You know, you’re really just as attractive and cool as everyone says._ ’ Aw, Der-Bear—” The nickname gets a tiny snort from Derek and Stiles grins, encouraged to keep going “—really that’s too kind of you. But please, tell me more about how cool and attractive I am. ‘ _Your eyes look like limpid pools of—_ ’”

“Shit,” Derek interrupts, dead-pan and imitating Stiles’ imitation of his voice, and Stiles uses his free hand to slap Derek’s chest, not liking how solid and warm he feels beneath Stiles’ palm.

“Shut the fuck up, you can’t only speak to insult me! You’re supposed to be my mate! My one true love, my other half, my missing piece, my twin soul—twin flame? I don’t know—my—!”

“Jesus Christ, Stiles, shut up!” Derek exclaims, but the corners of his lips are kind of curling upwards and Stiles is taking that as a positive sign for sure.

He laughs and squeezes tightly onto Derek’s hand when he almost faceplants by tripping over a rock, but Derek just rights him and grumbles something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like ‘clumsy ass’ and Stiles resents that very much, too.

They make it the rest of the way back with little injury—on Stiles’ part—and minimal frustration—on Derek’s part—and then they’re in the backyard and Stiles is being pulled inside and herded upstairs like a child. He grumbles and swats Derek’s hands away from him, careful not to make too much noise and wake his mother. He has no idea what time it is and his dad’s supposed to be off at midnight, so it’s best just to hurry to bed.

They get into Stiles’ room and Derek shuts the door softly behind him, rotating the handle all the way so the door doesn’t make a creak. Stiles snorts at him and strips off his jacket, kicking off his sneakers and pushing them toward the far corner of the room. When he turns back around, Derek is casually stripping.

“Whoa, dude, what the fuck!” Stiles hisses in a loud whisper. Derek, who is now shirtless, which Stiles has seen many times but with never stop being impressed by, stares at him, holding his shirt in his hands.

“What?” Derek asks, and Stiles applauds him that it actually sounds like a question this time, but now is not the time for advanced communication. Well, no, maybe it is. But first the undressing issue, which will most likely require advanced communication anyway.

“Why are you getting naked? Not that I—I mean, I—why are you getting naked?”

Well, clearly he needs to work on his own communication skills, but everything that wants to come out of his mouth is just a touch too lovestruck and desperate for even his own ears, so he can’t risk saying anything at this point.

Derek just stares at him for a moment longer before resting his shirt on Stiles’ desk chair—like he’s concerned about wrinkles or something, and knowing Derek, that’s probably entirely accurate—and starts taking off his shoes. Stiles keeps staring, dumbfounded.

“Well, I don’t really like to sleep in a shirt or shoes, or jeans.”

“Or _jea_ —! Derek, what the—what do you mean, sleep?”

Derek’s hands go to his belt now and Stiles spins around because he might actually have a heart attack. Forget demonic shadows and monstrous werewolves, Derek freakin’ Hale is gonna kill Stiles by showing a little bit of skin, which Stiles has already seen!

(They’ve gone down to the lake in the Preserve to go swimming, ever since they were kids. That’s where he learned how to swim, actually. And he and Derek have changed out of their clothes before whilst in the same room, though they both had their backs turned to each other—though that didn’t stop Stiles from peeking and then immediately hating himself for both the insanely great view he got and the total betrayal of Derek’s trust and the non-verbalized locker room rule that you don’t peek at other dudes no matter how badly you want to. And Stiles always wants to.)

Well, at least he’ll die happy.

“I’m sleeping here. With you.” Those two words give Stiles’ goosebumps so badly that he almost has to physically shake them off, but he restrains himself because the embarrassment would be too much to handle.

“Sleeping he—you didn’t ask me to sleep here.” Why can’t he finish any of his sentences right now? He feels like his brain has short-circuited.

“It’s not a question.” More goosebumps at the authority on that one and, you know, that’s not something that Stiles really wanted to know about himself. “I’m staying here tonight, Stiles. You almost—Jesus, can you turn around and look at me?”

Stiles braces himself and spins and, yup, that’s, like, the spank bank jackpot right there. Derek Hale, with more muscles that any normal seventeen-year-old should have, even a seventeen-year-old werewolf, standing before him in only tight gray boxer briefs, completely unabashed or unashamed, hands on his hips in a very maternal way, but not like comforting maternal, more like _what the hell do you think you’re doing_ maternal. Stiles is so into this image, it’s not even funny. But Derek’s _right freakin’ there_ and Stiles doesn’t want to have his throat ripped out by Derek’s teeth so—

Well, actually, no, that might be kind of hot—

Okay, _nope_ , reel it in, Stilinski.

Stiles shakes his head and forces himself to look at Derek’s face, which now looks slightly smug, which only makes Stiles indignant. He crosses his arms over his chest and huffs.

“Are you done?” Derek asks coyly and Stiles wants to punch him in his beautiful face.

“Screw you,” Stiles bites out and Derek opens his mouth to say something—and if Derek literally says _any_ of the responses to that that Stiles is thinking, or any iteration of them, it will _so_ been on like sexy Donkey Kong—but then closes it and gives him an amused smile instead.

“I was saying,” Derek starts, the smile slipping off his face as he recalls their previous conversation, “that you almost died out there tonight, Stiles. That wolf, whoever it was, they were coming for you.”

Shivers, but not in the same good, sexy way. Stiles doesn’t like these kinds of shivers.

“You’re too—Stiles, you can’t just go out in the woods like that. We _talked_ about this. And taking Scott with you?”

Ah, yes, the guilt and sorrow from earlier comes rushing back and any good mood that Stiles was in vanishes completely. It’s his fault that Scott got bit. He did that—inadvertently, yeah, but still.

“Stiles, I can’t—” Derek groans and moves closer so that he’s now standing in front of Stiles. He hooks his finger under Stiles’ chin, forces him to look at him, meet his eyes. Stiles wasn’t aware his gaze had even dropped. “I can’t lose you, Stiles. You’re too important. Don’t you get that?”

Stiles thinks that if this was a romcom, this is where the two characters would kiss, where they’d finally realize that what they’d been looking for was right in front of them the whole time, that this was their happy ending.

But this isn’t a romcom. It’s a fucking horror show and no amount of kind declarations are going to save Stiles’ life, no matter what Derek believes. Maybe that’s why he’s finally being nice to Stiles, because he knows his mate is about to die, and mates dying is supposedly pretty painful. Maybe that’s what Derek’s sudden interest in him is.

He doesn’t know, but it’s not funny anymore.

He shakes his head and tries to pull back from Derek’s grip, but Derek is being firm, looking directly into his eyes like he’s trying to make him understand something, gaze soft and also pointed. Stiles relents, staring back at Derek for a long moment, cataloging the smoothness of his skin, the slight shine of his eyes in the moonlight, even the bow of his lips. Everything about Derek is carved perfection, every single bit of him beautiful.

If only Derek actually loved him back.

“Yeah,” he breathes. “You’re… You’re important, too.” Derek’s gaze softens more and their faces are too close and Stiles clears his throats and pulls back out of Derek’s orbit, breaking their intense staring contest. He licks his lips and moves to take off his own shirt, facing away from Derek. Unfortunately, he chooses to stand in front of the window that’s broken, which Derek now notices.

“What the hell did you do?” He asks, peeking out the window, most likely spotting the glass below.

“Obviously destroyed it in a fit of inhuman rage,” Stiles quips back quickly, not wanting to draw any attention to it. Derek looks over at him, blank expression on his face. Stiles relents again, and wishes he didn’t cave so easily for Derek. “There’s… It started cracking a while ago—right, I told you that—and then it kept cracking every night and it exploded last night. It’s the whole reason I went into the woods.”

“This… It cracked? It exploded? On its own?”

“Well, I mean, I thought maybe the shadow thing did it and that’s kind of why I went into the woods—”

“ _Stiles_.”

“But we didn’t find anything because, you know, a werewolf attacked us in the woods and took a chomp out of Scott’s back.”

Derek sighs and shakes his head, crossing the room to go sit on the bed. Stiles, who has been bravely shirtless this whole time, takes that as a cue to finish changing into his pajamas.

When he’s got his sweats on and a T-shirt—because no way is he sleeping without a shirt and/or pants next to Derek, that is just absolutely not happening—he turns back toward the bed to see that Derek is already lying down with the covers pulled over him, right in the middle of the bed, probably have given up trying to talk to Stiles. Stiles groans and turns off the light before blindly trudging across the room. He smacks Derek’s shoulder when he finds him.

“Choose a side, dude,” Stiles grumbles. Derek opens an eye at him and reaches up, grabbing at Stiles and pulling him into bed, over the top of Derek, so he can rest in between Derek and the wall. Stiles yelps at the manhandling and slaps Derek’s hands away when he’s reached solid ground again. “Watch the paws, buddy!” He snaps, crawling underneath the covers and turning so he’s facing away from Derek.

Derek doesn’t seem to mind however, because Stiles feels an arm snake across his waist, pulling him tight against Derek’s body, which is like a huge wet dream for Stiles—well, obviously not just the arm-around-body thing but it is like the start of several fantasies, that’s for sure—and definitely not something that should be happening right now. He loudly clears his throat and pokes at Derek’s hand.

“Um, what are you doing?” Stiles whispers. Derek shuffles and drops his face into Stiles’ neck, which, hey, sexy shivers are back. Stiles pokes harder and with more intent. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek grumbles into his skin, which is a bizarrely nice feeling, one that Stiles wishes he could like, bottle and save for a rainy day when Derek has remembered that he hates Stiles.

“But you’re—you’re cuddling me.”

“I think it’s called spooning, actually.”

Stiles splutters. “Why do you know what that is? You’re like a grandpa.”

“I’m only older by a couple months.”

“Four months, practically a grandfather.”

“Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Stiles rolls his eyes and decides to be indulgent for once in his life and takes Derek’s hand in his. He twines their fingers together and is slightly astonished when Derek squeezes them. He draws their hands higher up, bringing them to rest against his heart. If Derek notices this, which he surely does, he doesn’t say anything and Stiles is eternally grateful.

He waits a good half hour for Derek to fall asleep before he brings their hands up to his lips and kisses the back of Derek’s hand, before letting them rest back against his heart. It’s probably the closest he’ll ever get to the real thing, but he’ll take it.

He closes his eyes and finds that it’s not hard to drift off when his warm and suddenly cuddly wolfy soulmate is right behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so! that happened. i regret nothing
> 
> i just wanna say that everything has a reason, well, almost everything, but a lot of things have a chekov's gun situation, okay? okay.
> 
> this was originally part of a chapter that was 15k and i had to split it up into three parts because there was just SO. much. content. but i think it's better like this. still pretty big, but much better this way.
> 
> i also really hope you like the dialogue and banter between the characters, that was my favorite part of writing, so i hope it came across well
> 
> next part should be out in a few days! let me know if you like it!


	5. trouble's on the way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles vows that whatever this thing is, he won’t let it hurt them. He won’t let it hurt anyone ever again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry this is late lmao but life happens i'm sorry
> 
> there's a panic attack in this chapter, closer to the end, you should be able to see it coming
> 
> chapter title is from "bad moon rising" by creedence clearwater revival

Stiles wakes up to a loud throat clearing and tries jolt upward only to find that his movement is restricted, mainly due to a large and heavy werewolf lying on his back. Stiles doesn’t know when he came to rest on his stomach, but apparently that meant free real estate on his back for Derek to sprawl across, which is exactly what he did. After a nanosecond, Derek slowly rises and Stiles flips over to find the source of the noise, though he already knows exactly what it was.

His parents are both standing in his doorway, his dad looking somewhat stern while his mom just looks overjoyed, radiating happiness. Stiles groans and crosses his arms over his eyes, because he knows exactly what this looks like and doesn’t know how to properly explain it to them without totally throwing himself under the bus.

Derek does it for him, though.

“Stiles went into the woods last night looking for the shadow creature and ended up getting attacked by an Alpha werewolf. Scott got bit and now my mother is trying to locate the Alpha responsible. I stayed with Stiles last night in case the wolf came back,” Derek summarizes, not looking at all ashamed although he is the least dressed person in this room, at least from what Stiles can guess from the tone of his voice. Not that he literally has anything to be ashamed for, he’s basically a lupine Adonis.

“Stiles!” Claudia admonishes. John calls his name in a similar fashion. Stiles groans again. “That was completely irresponsible! Why did you do that? And dragging poor Scott along…”

Stiles pushes the heel of his palm into his eye sockets. Maybe if he pushes hard enough, this will just all go away.

Derek sighs beside him and takes his wrists, pulling his hands away until they hang limply in Derek’s grasp. Stiles squirms for a second and then gives up.

“Look, I know I shouldn’t’ve brought Scott with me—”

“You shouldn’t’ve gone at all,” John corrects.

“Right, but I just… I was having these nightmares and—”

“Nightmares, you never told me anything about nightmares,” Derek says, still holding onto Stiles. Stiles glances over at him. Derek looks concerned, a little furrow between his brows that’s not unnatural even though it has a new air to it.

“They’re… They’re nothing, I mean, I didn’t even have one last night—” Stiles realizes that he probably should’ve kept that revelation to himself as soon as it leaves his mouth because suddenly Claudia is making a little squealing noise and Derek’s grip tightens ever-so-slightly and Stiles just really wishes he was dead.

“Okay, so, nightmares… What happened in them?” John asks, the only one who’s keeping his cool in the room.

Stiles thinks, off-handedly, that this scene must look odd: John in his flannel bottoms and an old BHPD shirt, Claudia with her hands clasped together and covering her mouth in excitement or probably worry at this point, Derek with nothing on but tight boxer briefs and holding onto Stiles’ wrists and resting on his side still with his back turned toward Stiles’ parents, and Stiles with Derek still _freaking holding his wrists_ and lying on his back, mostly out of view from his parents though he’s sure they can spot his misery and embarrassment quite well from their position by the door.

Stiles takes a deep breath and then moves out of Derek’s grip so he can sit up, back pressed against the wall. Derek sits up now, too, still mostly facing Stiles, which is kind of unnerving right now, but Stiles also likes attention, specifically Derek’s attention, so he soldiers on.

Right. Nightmares.

“It’s, um…” He looks down at his hands in his lap. “They’re almost always the same. It’s the thing and it’s coming for me and before it gets me, it gets all of you and then it, uh, it goes for all my friends and… Well, I never make it that long. Sometimes I wake up when it gets one of you guys, sometimes I wake up when it gets me, but it always comes. Every night, no matter what. Until…” Stiles trails off, flushing. “Yeah. It’s gruesome and just… Bad shit.”

“Stiles, _kochanie_ ,” Claudia comes to sit on the bed, scooting her way over so she’s pressed against Stiles’ side. He automatically leans into her and she wraps her arms around him. “You should have told us,” she whispers into his hairline.

“We would’ve helped, kid,” his dad says and also comes to join them, taking a spot at Derek’s feet. He drops a hand on Stiles’ ankle and clamps it there. Derek takes his hand and squeezes firmly.

“We’ll help you now,” he promises. Stiles squeezes back hard, but Derek doesn’t even seem to mind, just brings his other hand up to fully encompass Stiles’.

Stiles vows that whatever this thing is, he won’t let it hurt them. He won’t let it hurt anyone ever again.

+++

Derek promises them lunch at the Hales—since Derek’s already broken Talia’s rule about coming home for breakfast—so the Stilinskis and Derek load up in the Bug—with Derek properly clothed, thankfully, and, also, it is frankly hilarious watching Derek try to squeeze into that tiny car, Stiles is having the time of his life watching Derek pull his knees practically up to his chest just to fit, too bulky for the small backseat—and head that way.

No one’s waiting for them on the front porch, but Derek doesn’t seem too alarmed by that, just ushers everyone across the yard and up the stairs and inside, probably a little worried that his mom is gonna beat his ass.

The usual crew is milling about, all of Derek’s cousins and aunts and uncles and his siblings, who each greet Stiles in their own loving way—Grant gives him a quick but firm side-hug, Laura gives him a full bear hug and lifts him slightly off the ground, and Cora punches his arm hard enough that it definitely hurts but not hard enough to leave a mark—and his dad, who claps Stiles on the shoulder and tells him he’s glad Stiles is safe. They’re making their way to the study when someone tackles Stiles.

Derek—well, quite honestly, there’s no other word for it than snarls (and Stiles knows the best word for how he feels at that moment is completely and utterly aroused)—snarls at the intruder, but the intruder—Theo—merely punches Derek’s calf and pulls Stiles up off the ground. She wraps herself around him tightly, dropping her face onto his shoulder. Stiles laughs and winds his arms tightly around her too, always getting a mouthful of curls. At least they smell good, like pineapples and coconuts, which surprisingly works well together.

“Don’t ever be a dumbass again,” she mumbles into his shirt. “I know that’s like asking you to quit breathing, but seriously you gave me a heart attack.”

“You didn’t even come last night,” Stiles points out because, no, he definitely didn’t see her there. Theo presses more firmly into him.

“They put me on babysitting duty and I couldn’t get out of it. I had to stay back and make sure the humans at home were safe too.” She pulls back and grabs his elbows, making sure he’s looking at her face. “But I wanted to be there, you have no idea.”

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” Stiles murmurs, because he knows that’s what this is. Theo, despite all her posturing, is scared to lose her best friend. Stiles, more than anything, appreciates that and understands wholeheartedly.

“Correction: don’t ever be a dumbass again without _me_. I’ll be your muscle.” She makes a head nod towards Derek. “He’ll be the looks. You’ll be the brains. Well, at least most of the time.”

“The Three Musketeers,” Stiles replies, not without stomping on her foot for the smart ass comment. She shoves at him but remains holding on to him, so he doesn’t go far.

“Dumbass,” she says fondly.

“Actually, it’s pronounced _Dumas_.”

Theo shoves him again and lets go of him this time. He stumbles and she laughs.

“Mega-dumbass,” she corrects, crossing her arms over her chest.

Stiles opens his mouth to retort when he feels a weird rush of anger surge through the bond and he looks up to see Derek glaring at him and Theo’s interaction, which isn’t unusual because Derek seems to hate whenever Theo and Stiles are together, but Stiles thought that he and Derek were actually making some level of progress, even if it’s because of some weird fugue state that Derek’s been in.

And now, apparently, he’s regressed and they’re back to stage zero, like this morning never happened. Like last night never happened.

Oh God, if Derek’s woken up from his trance, he’s gonna be completely pissed at Stiles for last night. God, Derek really is going to kill him.

“You should get inside,” Theo says, breaking the uneasy silence that Stiles hadn’t realized settled over the room. His parents are still standing behind Derek, watching the whole interaction with similarly fond expressions, and Stiles is grateful that they can’t see the stink eyes Derek is giving Theo because that would really ruin the whole mood.

“Right, yeah.” Stiles clears his throat and throws Theo one last smile—and gets another pang of anger mixed with something too quick for Stiles to name—before he twists open the doorknob and strolls into the study with Derek and his parents behind him.

The first thing he notices when he enters the room is that Peter Hale is sitting in the great chair behind the desk, feet kicked up and resting on said desk. He has his fingers steepled and looks so painfully like a Bond villain that Stiles is in literal physical pain that he knows an actual guy like this. Peter looks up and smiles eerily when he sees Stiles.

“Stiles,” he greets, and the way he speaks is almost like a big cat purring, this weird silky smooth sort of vibe that you just know comes with a dangerous row of fangs behind it.

Before Stiles can even open his mouth, or the can of worms that is whatever Peter is going to say, he’s intercepted by someone flinging their arms around him. He recognizes this particular teenage boy funk rather quickly and twists around so he can properly hug Scott back.

He pulls back to hold Scott at arms’ length and properly examine him.

“How you feelin’, Wolfman?” Stiles inquires, reaching up to poke at Scott’s teeth, more just to annoy Scott than anything. “The fangs coming in?”

“No, not yet.” Scott bats Stiles’ hand away and steps out of his grasp, though he doesn’t go too far. “Mrs. Hale kind of explained everything to me last night and then again to me and Mom this morning.”

“Nurse Mel’s in on this?” Stiles glances around to see Melissa now standing with his parents, the three of them chatting. Melissa seems a little harried, but not much more than usual, which is to say not very much, so Stiles figures she must be okay. She’s strong, anyway, always has been.

“Yeah, she took it all pretty well. Pissed about the inhaler, whaddya know.”

“Oh, Derek found that actually. Not that you’ll need it anymore.”

“Yeah, super lungs. Imagine how great I’m gonna be at lacrosse. I could even beat Derek.”

Stiles snorts. “Keep dreamin’. You’re a bitten wolf, he’s born. He’s gonna be naturally superior to you in every way. More so than he already was, when you were a human.”

Scott beams at him. “So you’ve known about him this whole time and you still wanted to date him!” Stiles opens his mouth to correct him, but isn’t sure he wants to bring up the whole bond thing right now, even if Scott would understand from having a bond himself. That was part of the reason he never told Scott in the first place, because of the whole werewolf thing. Though it’d now be easier to tell him and rip the band-aid off, he still is a little protective about that part of his life. And he doesn’t necessarily mind Scott thinking that they’re just dating in secret or something, because it’s close enough to the truth that it doesn’t raise alarm, even if it does sting a little bit.

Luckily, Scott saves him from having to say anything by asking, “So how long have you known anyway? Since you were four?”

Because everyone knows he and Derek met when they were four, they just don’t know that the whole reason they met was because they could feel the bond tugging them toward each other. Stiles has never read about that happening to anyone else, but there’s also not a ton of published evidence about bonding rituals and how that whole thing happens, so he’s not terribly concerned.

“No, I don’t think, but it wasn’t long after. That was one of the first things I learned about him, though. You have no idea how hard it was to keep all of this a secret from you.”

“Oh, no, I can imagine! I mean, I’m really happy Mrs. Hale let me tell my mom because I don’t know how I would’ve hidden it from her. I don’t know how I’m gonna hide it from Allison.”

“You won’t be able to. She’ll have felt the bond change,” a new voice says from Stiles’ left. Both boys look to see none other than Deaton standing there, hands behind his back, looking utterly serene and knowledgeable.

“How did you know that she’s—” Scott starts.

“It’s my job to know these things,” Deaton explains. “As Emissary to the Hale Pack—”

“What’s an Emissary?” Scott asks, looking to Stiles. Stiles gives a half-hearted shrug.

“Well, we don’t really talk about it much because we don’t really need one. Like not full-time, at least. That’s what I’ve always heard and I’ve never met Deaton until recently.”

“I am the unofficial Emissary to the Hale Pack. More holding the place for the real Emissary until they are ready,” Deaton admits, a faint smile tugging at his lips. Real Emissary? Stiles has definitely never heard that before. “But I act as one when the need arises, helping however I can. Thankfully, the Hales are rather self-sufficient and haven’t needed my help. But when threats come up, like the one currently plaguing Mr. Stilinski, I step in and help take it down with my knowledge and skills.”

“And he’s a vet the rest of the time,” Stiles adds helpfully.

“A vet?! That’s so cool!” Scott chirps, smiling at Deaton, completely glossing over the whole ‘save the pack from imminent dangers’ thing. Stiles is not surprised in the slightest.

“You know, I am currently in need of an assistant. The work is a little bit too much for me. You could take the position and I could further teach you about how to navigate being a werewolf. At least, anything that Talia forgets, though she won’t forget much, I assure you.”

“No way, that’d be amazing, Mister, uh—”

“Deaton. Dr. Deaton.”

“That’d be great, Dr. Deaton! Thank you so much!”

Deaton merely smiles and bows his head slightly before walking away. Scott turns to face Stiles, his face completely lit up.

“I just got a job!” he whispers excitedly, like that’s something a normal sixteen-year-old should be excited about, not the werewolf powers, of course.

“And you have to tell your girlfriend that you’re a werewolf.”

Scott’s face falls. “Oh. Right. Forgot about that part.”

“Hey! The good news is that, as your mate, she literally can’t stop loving you for this. Like it’s against the code, I’m pretty sure.”

“I don’t think that’s quite how that works, but I do appreciate the sentiment.” Scott looks proud of himself for using that word, and Stiles is proud, too, so he just smiles brightly at him.

“Anytime, buddy. Anytime.”

Stiles claps Scott on the shoulder and gives him a little firm shake, which doesn’t move Scott very much anymore, and that realization makes Scott laugh and Stiles snicker.

Stiles then notices that the other Alphas are in the room; Deucalion, Kali, and Ennis all standing together in one corner with Satomi by herself over by the fireplace. Talia’s not yet in the room and Stiles realizes that that’s exactly what they’re all waiting for. And then he meets eyes with Peter Hale, who smirks and makes Stiles’ skin crawl.

He groans and squeezes Scott’s shoulder again before letting go.

“Excuse me, Scotty, I gotta go take out the trash.”

Stiles heads back to stand in front of the desk, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down at Peter. Peter smiles up at him, his teeth looking oddly more sharp than usual.

“Did you just call me trash?” Peter asks, before Stiles can say anything.

“Yes,” Stiles replies simply, which causes Peter to laugh lightly. “What’s with the creepy 1970’s stalker vibes you’re giving out today? They’re more poignant than usual.”

“Ah, yes, never failing to impress us with that knowledge of archaic words, Stiles. Your locution is impeccable.”

Stiles gives Peter his best bitch face. See, their relationship is complicated, because Peter, for whatever reason, has latched on to Stiles and made him his favorite. Peter’s mate, Malia’s mom, had died a long time ago, just after Malia was born and everyone said that Peter hasn’t been the same since. His and Malia’s relationship has always been strained and she was raised more by Talia and their other siblings than by Peter. Peter kind of went crazy and no one could reach him and when he did come back, slowly, he wasn’t the same. Stiles has known Peter all his life, however, and he’s always been the only person that Peter will invite to play chess or recommend books to or all this other inane and trivial shit that Stiles wants to not care about, but Peter doesn’t do this with anyone else. Just Stiles. So Stiles indulges him and plays chess—and typically loses but the first time he did win, he swears to God, Peter had proud tears in his eyes—and reads the dumb books and calls Peter out on his bullshit when no one else does. It’s a weird relationship, and Stiles 99% of the time strongly dislikes Peter, but Peter listens to Stiles and his opinions—again, for whatever reason—so Stiles gives them. And sometimes, though very, very rarely, he doesn’t hate Peter all that much and actually enjoys spending time with him.

“Are we really gonna sit here and toss around fancy words at each other like you don’t have an ulterior motive?”

Peter smiles sharply. “Oh, you know I never show my full hand, Stiles.”

Stiles furrows his brows. He’s not sure what game Peter is playing at—yet.

“When did you get in?” he asks, uncrossing his arms so he can plant his hands on the desk and lean forward towards Peter. Peter removes his boots from the desk so he too can lean forward in the chair.

“Late last night, early this morning. So hard to tell what’s what when everything is dark. Never know what you’re going to see in the dark. Five of a kind, aces.” He waves a dismissive hand around.

Stiles raises an eyebrow, a little confused but now intrigued. “And what have you seen in the dark?”

“I see only what people want to show me, Stiles. Everything else is a mirage, an illusion, distracting you from the big trick, the magic behind the curtain,” Peter whispers and Stiles thinks everyone might just be distracted enough that they won’t hear this.

“And what do you want to show me?”

Peter tsks. “Not asking the right question, Stiles. Try again later.”

He sits back in the chair and looks at Stiles for a long moment before turning his gaze elsewhere. Stiles follows his line of sight and sees Deucalion staring at them, or, you know, as close as he can probably get to staring. Like his head is pointed in their direction, is more like it. Stiles stares back at him until Deucalion slowly starts to smile and then he turns his attention back to Peter, but the chair is empty and Peter’s no longer in the room, it seems.

Weird.

Stiles turns so that he’s facing the room as a whole and, pointedly ignoring Deucalion, spots Derek standing next to Satomi, talking to her in hushed whispers that are too low for Stiles’ human ears to pick up. But they look adorable, or least Satomi constantly looks badass and adorable and Derek looks adorable next to old ladies. Well, correction, Derek also looks badass and adorable all the time, so. Just adorable.

Stiles goes to start heading that direction when the door opens and Talia and Red come in. Talia looks as put-together as ever, considering what’s supposed to happen today. She passes Stiles, running a hand over his shoulder as she goes, and takes her seat at the desk, Red standing by her side. Deaton comes up to stand at her other side and the others move in a little closer. Stiles himself takes a couple steps back so he’s not right in the middle of everything. He doesn’t need any more attention right now.

“I take it that everyone is caught up to speed on the events that have currently been surrounding this Pack,” Talia says and the room murmurs in agreement. Stiles glances over his shoulder and sees Derek still standing beside Satomi and he selfishly wishes Derek would come stand by him right now, but he won’t dare ask. He’s honestly not sure where he and Derek stand right now.

“Well, first and foremost, we need to discuss—”

“Stiles has something he’d like to tell you,” Derek says from his position by Satomi. Stiles whips his head around to glare at him. Traitor.

“Traitor,” he hisses. Derek gives him a look and Stiles turns back to face Talia, who raises her eyebrow at him.

“Stiles?”

“Well—”

“The nightmares, sweetie,” his mother calls from further back. Stiles raises his arms out in exasperation and hears a muffled, “Sorry.”

“Stiles?” Talia gets his attention. She always has to do that. Stiles feels bad and drops his arms.

“Right. The nightmares. Um. So, like, it’s no big deal, but—”

“It’s a huge deal,” Derek interrupts and now Stiles spins so he can face him.

“Can I please speak? If you want me to speak, then _let me speak_.”

Derek blinks and Stiles decides rather than dealing with that, that he’ll just spin around and face Talia again.

“Right, so, anyway, I’ve been having nightmares which totally _aren’t a big deal_ —” he says that more to Derek than to Talia and he thinks she gets it, given the amused expression on her face “—but basically the shadow thing comes and devours my loved ones and then my friends and then me. Sometimes it’s just loved ones then me, sometimes it’s just me, but it always comes for me. Always. I’ve been having them ever since it attacked me in the woods and then it, like, it kept cracking—my window, I mean. Like every night it would crack more and more until the other night it just exploded, but like outward and there’s glass laying all over the yard and sorry about that, Mom and Dad, but something shattered the window that came from inside my room and I did some research on it a while back and I stole this book from Derek—and sorry about that, Derek, I forgot about that—but I was just, like, glancing around and I saw it on the page and it was—it was exactly that and it was just sitting there on the page right in front of me and I think that was actually when the nightmares started, after seeing that and—”

“Wait, wait, you know what it is?” Talia asks, holding a hand up to stop his rambling.

“Well, yeah. I found it on accident. It’s, um, a _nalusa chito_ , I think, which is like—”

“A soul eater,” Deaton finishes. Stiles meets his eyes and then nods and drops his gaze.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

There’s a heavy silence over the room for a moment. Then, Deaton speaks up.

“Stiles, you said your window broke from the inside, yes?” he asks. Stiles looks up at him.

“Exploded, more like, but, yeah, why?”

Deaton doesn’t respond immediately, but rather fixes his gaze somewhere behind Stiles. Stiles follows his line of sight and sees his mother looking rather squirmy. His dad also looks guilty and Stiles’ brows furrow. What the hell do _they_ have to be guilty about?

“Claudia,” Deaton says and his mom sighs deeply, running a hand through her hair. Then she looks up. “You have to tell him.”

“I know,” Claudia says and Stiles shakes his head, looking between them and suddenly feeling very defensive.

“What? Tell me what?” He demands. Claudia comes to stand in front of him, taking his hands in hers. His dad follows, standing just behind her.

“ _Kochanie_ , you know how I always tell you how bright you are,” Claudia starts. Stiles furrows his eyebrows.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t mean bright like intelligent, although you are. I mean bright like your spark.” Claudia pauses and purses her lips, squeezing Stiles’ hands gently. “One of the brightest I’ve ever seen, actually, if not the brightest.”

“Brightest _I’ve_ ever seen,” Deaton adds.

“Okay, what… What are you talking about? What does that—spark? What does that mean?” Stiles asks, shaking his head again.

“It’s like this… Innate gift. Magical ability, I suppose.”

“Magic!” Stiles laughs, but it quickly dies down when he sees everyone else’s face in the room. Only Melissa and Scott seem surprised. Not even his dad is laughing. And Derek… He just has this look on his face like something suddenly makes sense.

Stiles pulls his hands out of Claudia’s grasp.

He takes a step back. “Wait, what are you saying?”

Claudia takes a half-step forward. “Stiles, you have magic. Stiles, you _are_ magic.”

Magic. Magic? No, that’s… No, that’s crazy talk. That’s for bag ladies with tiny shaved dogs that shake and pee everywhere and old men with rotted teeth. That’s not real. Magic isn’t real, this isn’t real. Magic? No, he’s not. Why would he be magic?

Suddenly what Derek said about smelling like magic after that first attack makes sense.

“It’s a gift passed on through generations, almost like a gene,” Deaton adds again. Claudia shoots him this look before turning back to Stiles. Stiles stares at her.

Not his dad, obviously, not with the way Claudia seems distressed, how she’s the one talking to Deaton. God! When he found Deaton and his mom together in the living room hunched over a book a while back! They’ve been working together for some time, clearly, maybe since before Stiles was even born.

And this whole time. He’s had it this whole time, this _spark_ or whatever. Ever since he was born. Every awkward moment, every painful thing, he’s had magic. Or a spark or whatever he’s supposed to call it. And everyone’s known! Well, the Alphas probably didn’t know and clearly not Scott or Melissa but his own parents obviously did and Deaton knew and maybe even the Hales. Maybe even Derek.

That thought makes him start to really freak out.

Stiles has always felt like the freak and the outcast and he never had something to blame other than himself. But his spark? That was it, wasn’t it? That’s why he’s so odd. Because of this stupid thing inside him, this purported ‘gift’. And they just let him think that he was weird. He’s spent his whole life thinking he was weird and now he’s supposed to have this gift, this _spark_ , the brightest his mom and Deaton had ever seen, if that even made sense. What the hell is he supposed to do with _that_?

“Stiles, _kochanie_ , calm down,” Claudia is instructing and Stiles didn’t even realize that he had put his hands over his ears. _It’s a panic attack, I’m having a panic attack._ He can feel tears in his eyes and it only makes him madder. Claudia grabs at him and Stiles feels a warm wall behind him, someone pressing close to him. _Derek_ , he thinks. John is trying to console him from the side. They’ve altogether formed a little room around Stiles, boxing him in. Even Scott is standing much closer than before, like he’s trying to complete the square.

Stiles closes his eyes and pulls his hands away from his ears, putting his head in his hands instead, trying to take in deep breaths. _Just a panic attack_. The tears are falling on their own and his parents and Derek are trying to touch him and it’s just too much right now.

(He doesn’t even know why he’s crying. Why is he crying? Why can’t he stop crying?)

“Stop, stop touching me, stop,” he murmurs and they all slowly pull away, though they don’t go far. He can still feel Derek practically pressed up against him, like a weird vertical imitation from last night.

He takes a couple deep breaths before raising his head to look at his mother. “Why is this happening to me? Why now? Why not before, why not sooner?”

Claudia herself looks close to tears. “You… I always knew you’d be strong, I just didn’t think you’d be this strong.” It completely doesn’t answer his question and only frustrates him more.

“The attack with the shadow creature could have triggered your magic to “act out”, so to speak,” Deaton provides, “which is why it never came up before.” Stiles bites his lip.

“There’s something I never told you about the attack,” he says, addressing the room. “When it… When it came for me, it should’ve killed me. It tried to, like, hit me, but there was like… A forcefield or something, an invisible barrier that it couldn’t get across or penetrate. That’s the only reason it didn’t get me.”

Deaton hums. “Your spark protected you.”

“This—” Stiles scoffs and shakes his head and pushes further away from his parents, away from Derek and into an open area. He turns to address his parents. “This is… Why would you—I don’t understand. You knew that I… I always knew I was different and suddenly it’s because of this _spark_ that’s supposedly always been there and I’m supposed to—I’m supposed to believe you or trust you. How can I…? I’m not even—I don’t know what to do anymore, you just ripped the magic freakin’ carpet out from under my feet and I’m free falling down to the streets of Agrabah and this is—and I’m supposed to control this now? I’m a _freak_ , I’m—”

“No, you are not,” Claudia hisses in perfect Polish, grabbing Stiles’ face and forcing him to maintain eye contact with her. “You are my son and you are beautiful. You have an incredible gift that I never should have kept from you. I was trying to keep you safe and I realize that I was wrong, _kochanie_ , and I am sorry, so desperately sorry. But you are _not_ a freak, do not _ever_ call yourself a freak. I wanted you to have a chance for a normal life first; you already were bonded when you were four, you didn’t need the added stress of learning how to control your spark. I always knew that when you became old enough that your spark would shine through, I just didn’t realize it would be so soon. I should have prepared you better and I didn’t, I’m sorry, _kochanie_ , I’m sorry. Do not blame your father, either, I made him go along with this; he wanted to tell you the whole time. And I know you are hesitant to trust me, but I never have and never will do anything to hurt you. You are more precious to me—to us—than you know, Mieczysław.”

“It’s both of our faults, son. We are both to blame and we are both sorry and we both love you more than anything in the world,” his father adds in clumsy Polish.

Stiles realizes his eyes are watery again, and is really starting to feel like a total girl, but he can’t seem to care, and pushes himself into his mother’s arms and holds her tightly. John comes and wraps himself around them as well and Stiles belatedly wishes they were having this moment anywhere else, rather than in front of the Hales, which he doesn’t actually mind; Deaton, which is whatever at this point he guesses; the McCalls, because he would’ve rather just told them himself without this whole production; or the Alphas, because now they know something about him that he can’t control and Stiles can already tell it’s going to lead down a dangerous path.

He allows himself another moment of being held before he shakes out of his parents grasp.

“If you guys ever do anything like that again, I straight up won’t talk to you for like at least a week,” Stiles threatens, because that’s as realistic as he can get. His mother smiles wobbly at him and his dad squeezes his arm.

“There’s something else,” Deaton says, calling their attention back to him. “If it is a nalusa chito, then it must have been strengthened by magic.”

“Is magic what caused it to break my window?” Stiles asks and Derek snorts behind him. Stiles turns to glare at him, but Derek looks thoroughly unimpressed.

“No, Mr. Stilinski, that would be you,” Deaton supplies helpfully.

“What?”

“Your spark broke your own window, honey,” Claudia explains. “You were in distress and so the force of your stress and agitation broke the window.”

“Huh,” Stiles says. That’s certainly new. Well, no shit, this is all new, but still. He wasn’t expecting that.

“The nalusa chito,” Deaton says, bringing them all back to attention once again, “was strengthened by magic. Mr. Stilinski is not strong enough—”

“Hey!” he protests, because he feels like he should.

“And Mrs. Stilinski would never do anything to harm her own son, which leaves us with a problem.”

“There’s another magic user out there who’s trying to harm Stiles,” Talia concludes. Derek snarls lowly and Stiles laughs faintly, humorlessly, and nervously.

“Alpha werewolves and witches on my tail? I must really be one hot piece of ass.”

No one appreciates his bad joke and Stiles can’t even blame them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the three musketeers/dumbass joke thing is that the book was written by alexandre dumas, in case people didn't get that. i hate explaining jokes but whatever
> 
> i know derek is hot and cold, just like stiles. they're not very good at controlling their emotions/feelings, that's a huge thing
> 
> peter and stiles' relationship is one of my favorites and i love it very much. peter, also, is very, very intelligent and seems to know things that other people don't and talks in a lot of poker/chess references with a healthy smattering of book/movie/cultural references almost all of which are in some way significant. almost everything he says has a double meaning. you're welcome.
> 
> and spark!stiles! how exciting! and it's my headcanon that claudia only calls stiles by his real name when it's serious, and that while she speaks perfect polish, john much more stumbles his way through polish sentences. stiles, however, takes after his mama.
> 
> i think that's it for this chapter, next one will be out in a couple days!


	6. oh, what a strange magic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek’s giving him this weird and almost private look, that Stiles feels like he shouldn’t even be seeing, but Derek is holding him in place, two hands firmly on his waist, so Stiles can’t even turn away. He stares up at Derek and thinks that this is another place where those romcom stars would kiss.
> 
> He wonders, certainly not for the first time in his life and definitely not for the last, what Derek would taste like.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> today's my best friend's birthday! but i had to get this out lol so here it is
> 
> really no warnings this chapter, but it is unbeta'd and i use more slang than i mean to. not a ton, just enough that my spellcheck is questioning me
> 
> chapter title comes from "strange magic" by electric light orchestra, and i love this song very, very much y'all it's absolutely amazing, please do yourselves a favor and listen to it

“There is still the matter of choosing a Judge,” Deucalion calls out amidst everyone talking about the huge freakin’ revelation that Stiles has got more supernatural baddies on his ass. Stiles wants to say that he can’t see how this whole Judge thing is important right now, especially because it’s all over a bogus trial with Satomi at the center of it, sentenced for a crime Stiles is like 98% sure she didn’t commit, but he knows that it’s important to the Alphas for whatever procedural reason, so he doesn’t protest it. Literally because he doesn’t think he can.

Talia smiles calmly, continuously looking put together in the face of jackassery. “Yes, of course. After much debate, I have chosen Alan Deaton to act as Judge in our trial.”

“So you do have a first name!” Stiles chirps accusingly to Deaton as the Alphas break into loud grumblings. Deaton just gives Stiles a barely-there smile and shrugs a shoulder.

“You can’t name _him_ as Judge! He is your Emissary!” Kali says brusquely. Deucalion’s face is eerily the same, like he expected this to happen, like he’s prepared for this all. It creeps Stiles out even more.

“Actually,” Deaton says calmly and with a little finger raised like he’s correcting a student or a child, “Stiles is the true Emissary of the Hale pack. I am merely a stand-in. A Druid without a pack.”

“A Druid Without Borders,” Stiles adds helpfully, though he doesn’t really get what Deaton means by “druid” and also _what_? Emissary to the Hale pack? _Him_? What?

“Actually, exactly like that, Mr. Stilinski,” Deaton nods. Stiles beams proudly despite the emotions rolling around inside him.

“He can’t be the Emissary, he’s just a kid,” Ennis grumbles from the corner. Kali elbows him and gives him a sharp look that Stiles can’t decipher, but Ennis seems to understand by the deeper furrow of his brows. Or maybe that’s confusion, who knows at this point.

“He makes a valid point, you know,” Stiles notes, turning back to Deaton and Talia, looking between them. “Because, primarily: what the actual hell do you mean I’m the Emissary? And did you know this this whole time? Could everyone tell? Am I supposed to be getting trained for this? What does an actual Emissary do, because I’ve never seen one in action, not really, and I’ve barely heard stories about them in the past and no one’s ever given me a clear answer, and, oh, huh, maybe that’s because you all knew all along and were just waiting for me to catch up—wow, that’s a sad notion, guess sorry it took me that long—and—”

“Jesus, does he ever shut up,” Ennis grouses again. This time, Derek turns and _snarls_ at him in a very sexy way that Stiles likes a whole lot more than he should say. Of course, Derek doesn’t actually snarl at Ennis _sexily_ or anything, just that Stiles finds it—the act of Derek’s snarl as well as his own interpreted meaning behind it, the possessive/protective display—sexy, but whatever.

“Chill, Der-Bear,” Stiles teases, though he is actually trying to get Derek to calm down, while Talia holds a hand up and says very pointedly, “ _Derek_.”

Derek makes another low grumbling kind of noise in his throat and moves to stand very close next to Stiles. Stiles allows it, if only for the way Derek smells when he’s standing this close. Like pine needles and smoked wood and pure happiness to Stiles’ human nose.

Best part? He doesn’t even scold Stiles for the callback to the dumb nickname, which is kinda what Stiles was banking on. Because now he is definitely abusing that for the rest of their lives.

Rest of _their_ lives. Huh. Weird thought to combine them together, but it doesn’t sit too sourly in Stiles’ brain.

“We’ll talk more about you as an Emissary later, Stiles,” Talia assures him, and then turns to the rest of the room. “But I choose Deaton as acting Judge and that is final. We will discuss trial decisions later. For now, let us reconvene with the rest of the Pack and eat. I’m sure everybody is hungry.”

Everyone mumbles their assent and gratitude and make for the exit. Stiles shoos his parents to follow everyone else out, mainly because he still feels a teensy bit betrayed right now, and leans back against Derek because he really has to use these sparse chances, take advantage of them and whatnot, or as much as Derek will let him. When else is Derek gonna be so openly affectionate and protective if not in the middle of a serious supernatural crisis where Stiles just found out he’s a wizard and might also die? Well, yeah, maybe not a wizard, but the possibility of death is still very high.

Derek leans into him as well, his chest the perfect pillow for Stiles’ head. Stiles prays that he grows another couple of inches so that he can at least match Derek’s height, if not outgrow him. His freaky werewolf genetics just made him shoot up like a beanstalk though, like a very beautiful, beefy beanstalk. Even Theo’s closer to Derek’s height than Stiles is and she’s a girl, and he knows girls can be tall, obviously, but it crushes his spirit every time he stands next to her.

Besides, if he was Derek’s height, it’d make kissing him easier. Not that they ever have, or ever will, kiss, but say the situation arose, being a couple inches taller would really be important to Stiles. He could always go up on his tiptoes, though. But wouldn’t that cramp after some time?

He should probably having this self-discussion in private, he realizes, and tries to focus on what’s happening presently.

Talia and Red pass them, whispering quietly amongst themselves. Red’s a rather quiet man, both in these discussions and outside of them, but he seems to do fine when it’s just his pack or family. He must not be doing too well with the whole Pack here. He’s more likely to admit he’s having a hard time than Derek is, since Derek is just like his mom in that they both rely heavily on their pride. Talia’s usually better than Derek about communicating her feelings or issues, though Derek, assumedly because of everything that’s happening right now, is starting to incrementally get better.

Derek’s hand is resting on Stiles’ stomach, splayed across it like he’s trying to take up as much room as possible, keeping Stiles in place, a thought Stiles finds he actually doesn’t mind all that much. Derek’s cheek rubs against the top of his head.

“Are you okay?” he asks gruffly, practically right in Stiles’ ear. Stiles has to suppress the shivers he gets from the proximity.

“Um, yeah, I think so. Are you?” He asks. Derek huffs a laugh, the air tickling Stiles’ ear.

“You just found out you have magic and that a magic user is out there trying to kill you and you’re asking if _I’m_ okay?” Stiles opens his mouth to reply but suddenly Derek spins him around so they’re facing each other. There’s no one left in the room anymore, just the two of them.

Derek’s giving him this weird and almost private look, that Stiles feels like he shouldn’t even be seeing, but Derek is holding him in place, two hands firmly on his waist, so Stiles can’t even turn away. He stares up at Derek and thinks that this is another place where those romcom stars would kiss.

He wonders, certainly not for the first time in his life and definitely not for the last, what Derek would taste like.

He mentally shakes that thought away and refocuses again. He’s hasn’t had any Adderall today and it’s clearly showing.

Derek opens his mouth to say something and then the door is opening and Stiles turns his head to look over and see who is there. Laura is standing there looking utterly shocked and apologetic. He belatedly realizes their position: how close they are, where Derek’s hands are, how Stiles is holding tightly onto Derek’s biceps. It’s quite a compromising position for two people who are the furthest possible distance away from doing that. At least emotionally and mentally, because they’re pretty damn close physically right now.

“I’m so sorry—” Laura chokes out before she starts laughing. Derek growls, his nose brushing against Stiles’ temple, and the feeling is enough to make Stiles jolt back a bit. He detangles himself from Derek, pulls all his limbs back in, and rubs at his arm just so he has something to do with his hands, feeling very much like the two of them got caught with their hands down each other’s pants and—

_Nope_. Not doing that either, not going down that road. Need to immediately vacate the premises.

“Um, right, we should get to lunch,” he decides and hurries out of the room and past a cackling Laura. He really doesn’t want to stick around for _that_ embarrassing conversation and definitely doesn’t feel bad for throwing Derek to the wolves, figuratively and literally.

+++

He figures Derek must be like, possessed, or has a head wound or something, because all of this current behavior is not Derek Behavior. Like, Stiles has catalogued Derek’s behavior since he first realized he liked Derek more than you’re supposed to like tentative friends or whatever the hell they were, when they were 6, which is pretty freakin’ young and means a long time of him feeling this type of way, he’s well aware. He knows exactly how Derek would act in most situations in a totally non-stalker way, because he’s grown up with Derek and spent like over half of his time with Derek and his family, even if Derek never seemed to want him back.

And now there’s been a switch flipped and Derek is grabby and handsy—which are two of the strangest descriptors for Derek because Stiles has never seen that kind of behavior from him before, like ever—and he seems to want to be around Stiles all the time and he’s growling at people in Stiles’ defense and honestly acting more wolf than human lately and it’s freaking Stiles out.

He’s learned how to deal with emotionally closed off and constipated Derek, spent his whole life learning what to say to make him slightly less irritable and what definitely not to say so that he doesn’t get his head ripped off and chewed on like a tennis ball. He’s been patient and fair and loving, to the best of his abilities, and he doesn’t actually hate the weird relationship they had before this whole monster thing went down, because even if it wasn’t the mating relationship he dreamed of his whole life—which, honestly, would have been any sort of progressive and positive relationship with Derek, he’s not too picky—he still got to occasionally be around and talk to Derek, who most of the time definitely didn’t reciprocate and seemed to get mad when Stiles hung out with literally anyone, himself included, but it was still a relationship.

Now that Stiles has almost died a few times, Derek is suddenly being this careful and gentle mate that defends and protects and Stiles doesn’t know what to do with it. He doesn’t want it. He likes it and it’s charming and makes his heart do weird flips, but it isn’t real, obviously, and so there’s no reason for him to get worked up over it.

He should just tell Derek to back off a little or chill out or something. He’s not sure if it’ll, like, hurt Derek’s wolf or something, but he can’t take all the mushy gushy stuff, not like this. He’s an asshole, Derek’s an asshole, that’s why they work well together. Stiles babbles and Derek listens to like 10% of it and they go their separate ways at the end of the night. That’s what he wants.

(Okay, maybe a bit more than that, but that’s so not the point right now.)

And in order to get that back, to get things back to normal—because, yes, he would also like not dying or going crazy every single night—he has to figure out the bullshit that is this mystery surrounding the Pack and himself. Which means, of course, he has to figure out this spark bullshit, make sure Scott gets through How to Be a Werewolf 101, figure out who bit Scott so he can get Satomi off trial, and try not to die anymore either by his own hand with his currently untamable magic thoughts—shattering windows, highly dangerous—or by the shadow monster that is being sent after him and slowly eating his soul at night, or whatever all that is.

Really, no problem.

He’s musing over this as everyone returns their dishes to the kitchen after lunch. The Hale House is, of course, big enough to house the entire Hale pack and then some, so while some of the remaining Pack members are here, most of them have taken to staying in nearby hotels. The Alphas, wisely, are not staying under one roof, not even Satomi, although she is slightly more active around the Hale House than the other Alphas. Once they finish their meal, they make promises to come back for dinner for discussions of the trial and leave abruptly. Stiles catches Satomi as she’s walking down the hallway to Lord knows where.

“Satomi!” He calls, jogging to a stop in front of her. She smiles kindly up at him, not looking at all worried about any of the events that have just taken place.

“Stiles,” she returns, hands clasped in front of her and looking diplomatic. He wonders if that’s just the default stance or if she feels like she has a reason to brace herself around him. He wonders how deeply this spark thing is going to affect him after all.

“I haven’t spoken to you yet, I just wanted to see how you’re doing. With the whole trial thing, I mean,” he clarifies, as if she’s forgotten.

“The trial will go precisely how it is meant to go,” she says evenly and very diplomatically, Stiles notes. He hums, trying to see what she’s up to.

“And with Deaton as the Judge, I’m sure it’ll remain fair and impartial.”

Satomi’s eyes crinkle, like her smile’s grown, though Stiles didn’t see her face moving at all. “Deaton will carry along justice with him and those responsible will pay their dues.” She moves past Stiles. “I look forward to seeing you there, Stiles. It will be an luminous night.”

Stiles stares after her for a moment before deciding he should be writing some of this shit down, if everyone’s gonna talk to him in fucking riddles.

+++

Talia takes Scott into the backyard after lunch and begins his training, telling him all about what it means to be a werewolf and how to control the shift. Melissa and Stiles and some of the pack members take up residence on the back porch and watch it all go down. Pretty much everyone’s seen this before, except Melissa, but they all applaud Scott when he slowly figures out how to use his claws, saying he’s making remarkable progress.

And he is, is the funny thing. He seems to find an anchor really easily—though Stiles doesn’t doubt that he’s chosen Allison to be his anchor—and takes in everything that Talia’s saying, concentrating in a way that he doesn’t normally concentrate for school.

Stiles thinks that there are for sure some people in the world who are just born to be werewolves—whether they’re actually born werewolves, end up bitten, or are never bitten at all—people that exude this aura, have this particular way about them that’s hard to describe especially if you’ve never met or seen a werewolf before. Erica Reyes was one of those people before she got bit; in spite of her epilepsy, she was a true wolf, a powerhouse of a girl, incredibly and unendingly brave, and still is now, finally having gotten her fangs. Derek is also one of these people, a wolf through and through, almost always acting wolfy as a human and humany as a wolf, like he’s simultaneously both man and wolf, which is the way it should be, after all, a perfect balance. There are some discrepancies with Derek, like he has some issues that he can’t seem to let go of and won’t tell anyone about, as far as Stiles knows, but he’s still pretty well in-sync with both halves.

Scott is one of these people, too. Had it not been for Stiles, he never would have known about werewolves and would’ve lived a happy and safe life, but Stiles dragged him into this mess and now here they are. And Scott… He’s a leader. It’s hidden beneath his scruffy hair and uneven jaw, but he’s a natural born leader, a boy with the ability to shift the tides. Even as a human he had an Alpha personality, often stubborn and a bit conceited, but someone to look up to, nonetheless. The human in him, his true personality, is the adorkable and lovable loser that seems to make friends with anybody. His Alpha-ness draws people in, but it’s him who keeps them there, that makes him his pack.

As Stiles watches Scott get knocked down by Laura, who’s taken over physical training, and keep getting back up, he realizes that Scott will be perfectly fine. Better than he was as a human, because now he’s finally come to be who he was always meant to be.

“He’s pretty good out there, isn’t he?” Talia asks him softly, crouching beside him. Stiles looks over at her before turning back to Scott. Laura kicks him strongly in the side, which sends him sprawling to the ground. He makes a weird growling sound that isn’t a full growl yet, and honestly sounds more like an angry pup than anything, and rolls back up to his feet. He’s still learning coordination and strength, and obviously won’t have that down for a while, but he’s quite enthusiastic about trying to kick Laura’s ass, which she welcomes openly.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. Scott’s going to be okay. He is, just look at him. He’s found his pack, he’ll be alright now.

“Although it was reckless, it was also incredibly brave what you did in the woods, Stiles,” she whispers. The others can definitely hear them, but it doesn’t seem like something she wants to keep private anyway. And the thought of Talia purposely praising him in front of the pack makes him warm all over. Because she is his Alpha after all, and kind of a second mom, and he’s definitely a momma’s boy or a teacher’s pet or whatever. He loves when mothers and maternal figures praise him, but he also generally likes when adults praise him, too. He aims to please.

“Thank you,” he replies quietly.

“Scott says you tried to tackle him out of the way, that you immediately rushed over to help him after he was bit. He says he would have been terrified if it wasn’t for you.”

Stiles tries to stop blushing, but he really can’t. He’s dropped his head now so he can’t see anyone’s reactions because he’s not sure he could handle that.

Talia drops a hand on his shoulder and squeezes firmly. “You did really well, love,” she says, which is a pet name she only uses for her children and Stiles isn’t sure he’s ever heard her say that to him before and it makes his heart ache.

He nods this time, because he can’t find it in him to speak. Even if everything’s kind of shit right now, leave it to Talia Hale to make him feel immensely good about himself and his dumbass habits. She squeezes his shoulder once more and then stands and heads back down the steps to help with the instruction.

Stiles barely gets a minute to process the pile of emotions left behind by that interaction before his name is being called from the back door. Stiles glances over his shoulder to see Deaton standing there patiently, arms behind his back like the weirdo that he is.

He clambers up to his feet and heads over to the doorway, throwing one last look over his shoulder to make sure Scott will be fine. Laura grabs Scott’s wrist and uses it to throw the rest of his body over her shoulder. Everybody winces, Scott groans, and Talia starts scolding Laura, who is not holding back her laughter _at all_.

Stiles grins. Yeah, he’ll be fine.

He follows Deaton inside and back into the study, although they don’t shut the door this time. Claudia and John are already in there, standing by the desk, which appears to have an array of objects on it, some slightly familiar to Stiles and others completely foreign.

There’s a book that looks familiar sitting at the center of it all. He saw his mom and Deaton hunched over it not too long ago.

“What is this, magic training?” He jokes. Claudia makes a sour face at him.

“Spark training, but yes. This will be a crash course, but Deaton and I will help you further and more extensively later on. For now, we need to make sure you know how to use your spark and how not to use it.”

“What does that mean? How do I not use my spark?” He makes a face back. He really is his mother’s son.

“She means use it the way you did when you broke your window,” Deaton explains. “We’ll talk about how to focus your energies and tools you can use to help you.”

Stiles looks at his dad. “Do you believe this crock of nonsense?”

John presses his lips together like he’s holding back a smile. “It’s clearly not nonsense if the windows are shattering. I would prefer if you didn’t do that to any other rooms of the house. Or whenever else you feel a powerful _surge_ of… Intense, _emotion_.”

“Powerful surge of intense emotion? What, like—” Stiles makes a horrified noise when he understands what he’s saying. “Ew, gross, Dad, I would never!”

John levels him with a _yeah, right_ face that he feels is totally unjust. “That’s not necessarily what I meant.” He pauses and purses his lips. “But when you _do_ feel that—”

“Because you _will_ ,” Claudia interrupts. “Especially with Derek. It’s always stronger with mated pairs. The first time your father and I—”

“Okay, okay, stop! Please, for the love of God, stop!” He shrieks, clapping his hands over his ears. Claudia and John laugh at him and Deaton just keeps that neutrally serene expression, like Stiles’ parents weren’t just talking about the first time they had sex. _Eugh_ , even thinking the word gives Stiles the heebie-jeebies.

“Why don’t we start with some basics about your spark?” Deaton suggests and Stiles is very, very grateful. He turns his full attention toward him. “Of course, your mother can explain the history of your spark and how she learned how to control her spark later. I won’t be much use there.”

“Why not?” Stiles asks, ever the inquisitive mind.

“I have no spark, not like you do, at least. Magic is different for druids and other magical entities like that. We have the ability to manipulate magic, but we do not possess it. My sister and I are both druids and Emissaries, of a sort. Emissaries are meant to be druids or sparks, but because of the rarity of sparks, they are often druids. But druids are not always Emissaries. Sparks, however, are almost always Emissaries or closely related or tied to Emissaries. If it had not been for you, your mother would have become the Emissary of the Hale Pack.”

“Were you Emissary before I was born?” Stiles asks, looking to Claudia. She shakes her head.

“I was a close advisor and friend, but she—Talia, that is—and I both knew that I wasn’t the right Emissary, that we were waiting on someone else. On you.”

“Huh. Can you guys like—or we, I guess—see into the future or something? Like how did you know that?”

“Some admittedly have more gifts than others,” Deaton offers, “though prophecy is not one of them. But some are more adept to visions of the future, glimpses, if you will. Claudia does not have this ability.”

“But it was a feeling,” she explains. “Almost like a pull. It’s like what you feel before you meet your soulmate, you remember that, right honey? But it was much stronger, though that could be because my soulmate pull wasn’t very intense. It pulled deep in my gut and I could tell that there was something better coming. I found out I was pregnant not long after and when you came out, I just knew that you were what I was waiting for.”

“You too may develop some sort of foresight, though it may only be used on occasion. I would not be surprised, given your mother’s feelings. That is one of her specialties.”

“Is this like in Twilight where they’re vampires but then some of them have special powers on top of that? Like Edward can read minds and Alice can see the future and Bella has the whole forcefield/shield thing going on?” Stiles asks.

“It’s weird that you know that,” John tells him. Stiles scowls.

“But yes, almost exactly like that, but not as strong, I suppose,” his mother says. “And they’re not like gifts, but more like inklings or traces of gifts. Like you might be able to recall more languages than me, or I might be able to feel a deeper, physical connection to my pack. That sort of thing. They vary depending on the spark and how connected they are to the pack already.”

“I imagine you’ll be quite unique, given your connection,” Deaton notes. Stiles preens quietly, even though unique isn’t always a good thing. But he’s pretty sure Deaton means it in a good way. Deaton gestures to the objects on the table. “We’ll forget about potential abilities for now and focus on these objects. Most are just to show but you may use some later in life. Now, sparks, like druids, sometimes still need to channel their power, especially when they are young or just getting started. I’ve also brought some crystals and gems that might help with those dreams you’ve been having.”

“What, did you run home and grab all your witch stuff during lunch?” Stiles jokes. Deaton looks at him.

“Yes,” he says seriously. Stiles opens his mouth, but decides against it and closes it again. “Now, this book is kind of like a beginner’s guide to magic. It’s more for druids, and therefore has more earthy and natural methods than you might need. However, again, I’m sure your mother has books that are more geared toward sparks.”

“Yes, for sure,” she chirps.

“I suggest reading the first twenty pages of so immediately, so you can better understand the world of magic.” Deaton hands the book to Stiles, who takes it, just staring at it. “Now, let me go over some of these items. This is a boline.” Deaton holds up a knife that has a curved blade, almost like a scythe, silver with a white handle. “It’s used by druids for cutting herbs, like mistletoe.”

“But werewolves are, like, allergic to mistletoe?”

“Right, so you probably won’t ever use it, other than while you’re apprenticing under me and helping me gather herbs.” Deaton replaces the boline and gestures to some candles. “Different color candles mean different things, very important to know what you’re using for which spell.” He holds up a talisman with some kind of weird looping design on it. “Celtic knotwork, also very important. This is called a triskelion and is an important symbol to the Hales. I’m sure you’ve seen it before. Oh, and I don’t have any written down, but Icelandic stave symbols will be very important as well.” He points to a pile of various feathers. “Feathers. Simple enough, often important to spell work. We have swan, eagle—”

“ _Eagle_?” Stiles asks incredulously.

“Yes, don’t tell your human friends about that. We’ll be heftily fined.” Then he gestures to a separate section with rocks and plants. “Now, here is the more natural side of things.” He holds up a box of bluish-purple flowers and Stiles recognizes it instantly.

“Wolfsbane,” he says.

“Aconite,” Deaton corrects, not unkindly. “Though often called wolfsbane, yes. I wanted to make sure you were familiar with it. We will discuss specific strains at a later date, but it is important you know the difference so you don’t accidentally kill your pack.” He doesn’t look like he’s joking and Stiles doesn’t laugh. Deaton sets down the box and starts gesturing to the other flowers. “Bluebell, prevents nightmares though we won’t try this with you; mandrake, numbs sensation and occasionally casts out demons; ginseng, helps with longevity; yarrow, protection; mistletoe, you know about that; rosemary, St. John’s Wort, wormwood—”

“This is a lot,” Stiles groans.

“We haven’t even gotten to the crystals,” John likewise groans from behind Claudia. She elbows him in the stomach and he laughs.

“I won’t go over them all today,” Deaton promises, gesturing to the crystals. “Just the important ones, the ones I think you’ll actually need. Then you’ll pick one from there.”

Stiles sighs. “Okay, sure.”

“Agate for dreams, cat’s eye for protection, and moonstone.”

“And what does moonstone do?”

“Mm, it has a way of… Settling things. Can be dangerous to werewolves if used in the wrong way.”

“Wrong way? What do you mean? Like if I touch Derek with it, he’s gonna die?”

“No, no, but it’s almost like mountain ash, you know about that, don’t you?” Stiles nods. “If you were to trap a werewolf in a container made of hecatolite—moonstone, that is—it would disrupt the patterns of the moon, absorb the moon’s power, and cause issues with the wolf inside. They wouldn’t transform, wouldn’t be able to. That’s very dangerous for a werewolf. Granted, that scenario is not very likely, but still.”

Stiles picks up the smooth oval stone and stares at it, turning it over in his hand. It almost feels like the stone is… Vibrating, in a weird way. Ever so slightly, but there’s definitely movement. “Is it supposed to do that?”

“Do what, Stiles?” Claudia asks.

“It’s like it’s… Vibrating?”

Deaton hums. “It appears that moonstone has chosen you.”

“It’s _sentient_?!”

Deaton shakes his head. “Not by our normal definitions of sentient, but it is magically drawn to you. To your power, most likely. It should help you channel your energy quite well.”

“This shit is like _Harry Potter_ ,” Stiles whispers to the stone. “‘Wand chooses you’ and all that bullshit.”

“Watch it,” John warns. Stiles looks up at his parents and holds the moonstone up.

“It took five extra years, but I got my letter, y’all.”

Claudia laughs and reaches forward to stroke Stiles’ arm. “Now we need to talk about how to use your spark.”

Stiles throws his head back and groans loudly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry there's not that much sterek in this, but i really wanted to talk a bit about sparks and druids and how stiles is kind of feeling about everything, next chapter is kind of the same, but there's some fluffy stuff in there and both are significant to the story i'm so sorry
> 
> also last chapter, when he found out he was a spark, i wrote this big scene where he accidentally got worked up and destroyed a lot of the room and then i was like "hmmm..... that might be a bit much" and edited it into the scene you read and i think it works much better now, fits with the story better
> 
> and i wish i could leave like little notes every time i write something that's going to be important to the story later, but A) that would ruin the fun and B) i like people finding it out themselves, i think it adds a lot to the reading experience
> 
> and now that stiles knows he has a spark, he just wants to be able to use it lol he's so not being patient with this at all. we'll see how that all plays out
> 
> update should be on monday or so!


	7. what was ever really special about me all this time?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She smiles brightly at him and leans over to kiss his forehead. He thinks that maybe everything will be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really just stiles talking things out with his family, which was necessary and contains relevant points for the plot later on, i'm sorry there's not more sterek in it :(
> 
> no warnings really necessary? like it's actually not bad at all
> 
> chapter title comes from "how far we've come" by matchbox twenty

After the longest (and only) spark training of his life, they finally release Stiles back into the house. Deaton lets him go, telling him to sleep with the moonstone under his pillow if his dreams get bad again. He promises, in return, to dig deep into the nasula chito and try to find any and all information he can, because if they can stop it, at least they’ll have one less problem to worry about.

But who’s to say the magic user won’t just conjure up another monster to chase him around and haunt his dreams? That’s what’s really been plaguing Stiles this whole time, is that it seems like no matter what they do, the enemy is currently winning and Stiles has no real strategy to proceed.

He’s kind of walking aimlessly at this point around the Hale House, Deaton’s magic book tucked under one arm, the moonstone safely in his pocket, when he spots Theo reclining on the couch with Cora and Theo’s twin younger brothers and a couple of other Hales. He makes a beeline for them and drops the book on the coffee table in front of Theo before draping his body over the top of hers on the couch. She starts laughing and tries to shake him off, but not very hard.

“You’ve been avoiding me all day,” she sniffs when they’ve settled. She’s turned enough so that she’s lying on her back with Stiles on top of her, but he knows that she can support them and that she’d say something if he was hurting her or if she was uncomfortable in any way. Theo doesn’t hold anything back.

“I’ve been in magic training all day,” he corrects. “And before that I was getting my ass handed to me about these supposed magical powers that still kind of make me want to throw up everywhere.”

Theo holds a hand up to shield her face. “Well, direct your stream elsewhere.” Stiles laughs and moves his arms so he’s bracketing Theo’s head. “And you forgot that this morning you apparently woke up with Derek in your bed? I feel like that was a super important thing to tell me that you didn’t.”

Stiles groans and drops his face into her neck, getting a mouthful of curls for his trouble. Theo’s hand drops on his back and starts rubbing up and down his spine in a soothing manner. Cora makes a weird humming noise that causes Theo to kick at her. Stiles pretends he doesn’t notice or care.

“What was I going to say? Your cousin slept in my bed? That’s all I could’ve said anyway. That’s all it was. He was watching over me so the Alpha didn’t come back, that’s all. It didn’t mean anything.” Stiles sighs and Theo goes weirdly still under him, her hand freezing in its spot. A couple more seconds and then there’s a door slamming upstairs and Cora sighing deeply like the world bothers her. Stiles raises his head and looks around. The other Hales in the living room are all pretty still and Cora’s getting up off the couch, not sparing a look at Stiles or Theo, heading for the stairs. Theo sighs underneath him.

“What?” he demands, looking around at everybody again. Theo clears her throat loudly and everyone turns back to what they were doing. Stiles looks down at Theo.

“Maybe you should talk to him, Stiles,” she says in a gentle tone that she usually doesn’t have for him, like he’s a very small child. Stiles shifts his hand because he’s currently pulling her hair, but she doesn’t seem to notice the difference. “I think everything would be better if you just talked to him.”

Stiles shakes his head, pulling back until he’s sitting on her knees. “I promise you, that’s not going to change anything. It hasn’t in the past and it definitely won’t now.”

Theo sits up so she can glare at him properly, her tone changing drastically. “That’s bullshit, you’ve never tried talking to him before and we both know it. You can keep running around pretending you’re actually as pathetic as you think you are or you can get off your ass and do something.”

It’s clearly the wrong day to push Stiles because something shatters to the right of him, something on the mantelpiece. Stiles doesn’t bother checking what it is, just gets off Theo and grabs his dumb magic book and storms out of the room and out of the house, ignoring whoever is trying to call his name.

He doesn’t get very far down the main road, which is a dirt road really, before a familiar Camaro is driving up alongside him. The window rolls down and Stiles has half a mind to start yelling again before Laura’s head pokes out of the window.

“You shouldn’t be walking out here alone, you know,” she chirps, seemingly unbothered by his pissed off state. Stiles crosses his arms across his chest as best he can with the dumb book in his hands.

“I can take care of myself,” he bites out.

“Oh, I know,” Laura replies and Stiles thinks for a minute before stopping in his tracks. The car stops beside him. She reaches over and pushes the door open. “Get in, I’ll take you somewhere.”

“Where?” Stiles asks, though he climbs in anyway.

“Anywhere you want to go.”

Stiles stares out the windshield, not oblivious to Laura staring at him patiently.

“Home. I just want to go home.”

Laura’s eyes drop and she purses her blood-red lips for a moment before dropping a hand to Stiles’ knee and squeezing it firmly. Then she puts both hands on the wheel and starts driving again.

Laura, thankfully, doesn’t say anything on the drive. She turns on the radio and occasionally hums softly when her favorite part of a song comes on and taps her fingers on the steering wheel. She used to be, when they all were younger, quite the wild card. She did whatever she wanted whenever she wanted and constantly got into fights with Talia and Derek and anybody who would argue back. She’s next in line to be Alpha and will take over after Talia’s gone or retired, but she’s always had the Alpha personality. It got better when she grew up a bit and then even better when she met Thomas, who’s quite the opposite of her and a lot like Laura’s dad, Red, much more passive and calm. Stiles is kinda surprised that they haven’t had any kids yet, but he knows that Laura is clinging to her youth before she has to grow up for good.

He likes her a lot. Well, there probably isn’t a single person from the Hale pack that he doesn’t like, Peter excluded, though he does usually, very minutely, like Peter too. But Laura is chill and she’s always supported Stiles in everything he’s done, including the bullshit—especially the bullshit—and she’s kind of like the cool, badass, snarky older sister he’s always wanted.

And she’s respecting that he needs space right now and is helping him get it, which is really cool of her. He’ll remember to be polite and tell her thank you when she drops him off, get her a really nice birthday present this year. Maybe something “over the hill”-themed, to show how much he really cares.

Laura turns onto his street and pulls up to his house, putting the car in park with a big sigh. Stiles fiddles with the book in his hands, unsure of if he should tell her why he’s pissed or not. He’s not even fully sure why he’s pissed, but he did break like a vase or something on their mantelpiece, so he should probably say sorry about that.

“Is this about—”

“Sorry about the mantelpiece,” Stiles blurts out, looking up at her. “I don’t—I can’t really control it.”

Laura blinks. “The mantelpiece… The vase, you mean?” She flaps a hand around, a gesture Stiles has picked up from her over the years. “That’s nothing. I mean, a little inconvenient, but those flowers were dying anyway.”

Stiles nods and bites at his lip. “Do you think Theo’s mad at me?”

Laura stares at him. “… Theo?” she asks, blinking slowly again.

“Yeah, because of the fight. I guess we didn’t even really fight, she just said something to make me mad and I Jean Gray’d everything and stormed out. Ha, _stormed_. Like Storm.” Stiles doesn’t laugh at his joke for very long, the sadness of everything washing over him. Theo would’ve loved that joke and he wishes he could have told her but now he’s a crappy friend.

“Oh, okay, um… Well, Theo won’t be mad at you for long. I mean, it’s you and Theo, you guys are like… Like you and Scott level of friends, you know? You’ll be back together in no time.” Laura purses her lips again. “Are you sure there isn’t anyone else you’re concerned about though? Anything you f _eel_?”

Stiles furrows his brow. “Uh, no? Should I?” Then he thinks. “Oh, shit, I left my parents there! Agh, I’ll have to text them and tell them I left. And Scotty! I didn’t even say goodbye to him or anything! Or—” He wants to say Derek, but his little crush on Derek is so far from his concern right now that he doesn’t bother mentioning him at all. “Or Melissa,” he finishes lamely.

Laura stares at him for a moment before nodding her head, like she’s confirming something with herself. Stiles keeps fiddling with his book.

“Okay, well… Maybe you need to take the rest of the weekend off from pack things and focus on you,” she says. “I mean, you just had a big life-changing revelation come up and your mom, I’m sure, has plenty to teach you. The rest of tonight and tomorrow can just be about what it means to be a spark. And then you can see De— _everyone_ on Monday and apologize and talk to _everyone_ then. Yeah?”

Stiles nods and hesitates for a second before diving across the console and wrapping his arms around Laura. She doesn’t hesitate at all, instead engulfing him in as big a hug as she can in the tiny space they’re in. She even rubs her cheek along the side of his head, typically what the rest of the pack does to scent him, not nearly as personal as Derek shoving his nose in Stiles’ neck.

Laura even kisses his hairline before gently pushing him back, surely leaving a big red lipstick stain there. “Go practice your magic, Gandalf. We’ll see you on Monday.”

Stiles smiles brightly at her and grabs his magic book before climbing out of the Camaro. At the last second, he throws the door back open and peeks his head inside.

“Thanks, Laura. For… Everything.”

Laura’s face does this beautiful thing where she looks a little teary-eyed but is also smiling warmly. She nods at him.

“Of course, Stiles. You’re pack.”

It sends a sharp pang to Stiles’ chest, but he puts on a brave face and smiles back at her. Then he closes the door and jogs up the front steps, opening the door and not looking over his shoulder once in fear he’ll start crying if he does and never stop.

+++

His parents give him a few hours to hang out by himself and calm down before coming home at dinner. They leave him alone for another hour or so before John comes and gets him from his room and they all sit together to eat the pasta and vegetables that Claudia’s made. Stiles typically helps her cook dinner, but he couldn’t muster up the courage to do it today. Too many emotions right now and he feels like his magic moonstone isn’t doing shit.

He tells his mother as much, but she doesn’t seem very surprised.

“You’re very powerful, Stiles,” she says softly. “The moonstone is just a tool to help channel your energy and spark so that you’ll be more direct with your power rather than blowing up vases all over the place. You’d be worse off without it, especially if you’re having powerful emotions being all stirred up like that.”

“So I’ll basically never be normal again,” he grumbles, stabbing at his carrots. Claudia makes a tsking noise, but her hand is gentle when she lays it on his arm.

“ _Kochanie,_ this is your normal now. This is what I was trying to save you from. It’s never going to be easy like how it was. You’re always going to have to keep yourself in control at all times so you don’t hurt somebody.”

“Great.” Stiles slumps further into his seat. His mother tightens her grip.

“I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but this is probably all for the better. You needed to know about your spark and you need to know how to use it.” She reaches a hand up and combs her fingers through his hair. “It’s going to get worse before it gets better.”

Stiles doesn’t say anything back to that, and neither of them say anything to him when he excuses himself fifteen minutes later.

+++

Stiles wakes up the next morning with no nightmares. Surprisingly, the moonstone under the pillow worked. He hums and starts getting ready for the day, even though he already knows it’s going to be a lazy one. Laura basically told him to focus on himself and his spark, and he’s going to take her advice, because, no offense to his pack, but he’s kinda getting sick of werewolves and that definitely includes some Hales right now.

He does, however, text Scotty and make sure everything’s still going okay with him. Apparently Melissa is still a teensy bit freaked out by everything, but Scott has taken to it all rather well, just like Stiles thought he would. He sends a lot of positive and ambiguous emojis back to Stiles, and Stiles chooses to interpret the ambiguous ones like they’re positive too, and sends back a slew of his own.

He doesn’t text Theo and he definitely doesn’t text Derek. He’s trying to stay away from those two problems.

But he does send Laura a quick thank you text, promising to learn at least one magic trick in her honor so he can surprise her. She texts back that she’s holding him to it and sends him a smiley face.

Stiles heads downstairs, moonstone in pocket, and does some light stretching in the kitchen before he starts pulling the ingredients out to make pancakes. His mom should, in the next couple minutes or so, head downstairs and start helping him.

He puts on the radio, but makes sure it’s quiet enough that his dad can still sleep in. He sets to putting the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in the bowl first and is just starting to stir them by the time Claudia comes downstairs. She’s got her dark wavy hair hanging loosely around her face, dressed in that matching silk pajama set John got her for Christmas two years ago. She looks beautiful, as always, young and healthy and happy.

Stiles finds him forgiving her more and more each time he sees her.

The initial hurt still kinda looms, and he’s more pissed at her than his dad—even though, to be fair, his dad also hid this from him; even if he wanted to tell Stiles like Claudia said, then he just should’ve told him and not hidden it just like Claudia did—because Claudia is the one who has the spark, who he got it from, and he’s always trusted both of his parents implicitly and now they’ve betrayed his trust and in front of all those people, too. So, yeah, he’s still a little hurt by it all, but it’s slowly getting easier to forgive her and see why she did it. Besides, it’s not really like he can make himself stay mad at either of his parents for very long.

“Morning,” he greets when she stumbles into the kitchen, drawn by the music and sounds of whisking.

“ _Dzień dobry_ ,” she responds, coming over to peer at his ingredients. “Pancakes? Surely we can do better than that.”

“We might have blueberries?” he offers. Claudia smiles, tapping the side of her nose with her finger.

“I like how you think, kid,” she whispers conspiratorially. She heads over to the fridge and starts rooting around in there. “Did you talk to Derek today?”

Stiles furrows his brows in confusion. “What? No, why?”

Claudia hums. “I think he was pretty upset yesterday. Wouldn’t leave his room, not even for dinner or after we left. Not even when the Alphas came back. Something put him in a sour mood.”

“Hm. Well, no, I didn’t talk to him. Last time we talked was before lunch.” God, Stiles doesn’t want to remember that awkward encounter. Claudia finally drops the blueberries in front of him and turns around to start grilling bacon and sausage. That’ll get John up quicker.

"You can’t feel anything through the bond?” his mom asks. Stiles pours in the milk, eggs, oil, and blueberries before responding.

“No,” he says, because he really can’t. It feels kind of muted and dull, though maybe that’s because Derek’s sleeping right now. Stiles doesn’t remember feeling anything last night either, though he was kind of focused on himself and not really paying attention to the bond.

“Weird,” Claudia murmurs and that’s all they speak on that. John does come down sometime in the next ten minutes, when Stiles is starting to fry the pancakes and Claudia’s already got the fruit and meat all set up. She’s working on cleaning the pancake workstation as John comes into the kitchen.

“G’morning,” he grunts. Claudia and Stiles exchange their good mornings back and John takes Claudia in his arms to start sweeping her around the kitchen like they’re teenagers. Claudia laughs and sings along to the song playing in her beautiful voice, purposefully bumping into Stiles as they pass him. Stiles just laughs and shakes his head at their antics.

They all sit together at the breakfast table and share their blueberry pancakes and talk about anything other than the Pack or what’s happening right now, because they know how desperately Stiles does not want to deal with it. It’s good and Stiles feels happy and when it’s all over, all he can do is miss it.

But he promised Laura he would focus on his spark, so as they’re cleaning up, he asks Claudia to show him some books she has on sparks. He read the twenty pages Deaton wanted him to read and then some, so he has a fairly good understanding of this whole magic thing now. But Claudia’s got the stuff that matters more.

She takes him up to the attic that they never use anymore, where they’ve stored her wedding dress and Stiles’ old baby clothes, and shows him a wooden trunk full of books. She pulls a few out and offers some overview on what’s inside of them, but they don’t seem to be what she’s looking for or wants to show him.

Finally, she pulls out a worn leather notebook and smiles proudly.

“Here! This is my great-great-grandmother’s journal. She, like those who came before her, knew the Hales pretty well. Ever since we emigrated here from Poland, we’ve grown close with the Hales.” Claudia opens the journal and starts flipping around the pages. “I read this all the time as a little girl, trying to understand my spark. My mother had the spark, too, she’s who I inherited it from. I thought I was going crazy when my spark first started getting bright. My mother gave me this journal to help me get through it. Then when she died… Well, you inherit your parent’s spark fully after their death.”

Stiles looks up at his mom in horror. “Wait, what?”

“When I die, you’ll feel the full extent of your powers, with both of our sparks. When you die, you’ll pass it along to your children.”

“Wh—I don’t think I’m ever going to biologically have children, Mom.”

“You never know,” Claudia replies with a wink, putting the book in Stiles’ lap and leaving him even more horrified than before.

Claudia keeps talking about what it was like to grow up with her spark and how she struggled around her classmates and how she only felt normal when she was around her mother or the Hales. “They have a way of doing that, you know. Making you feel safe. They’re natural protectors, all of them. I can’t imagine what it’s like being mated to one of them. Though, maybe this whole time that’s why we stayed in such close contact, my family and hers. Maybe it’s destiny.”

“Destiny, right,” Stiles jokes, though the word makes his stomach flip.

“There’s magic everywhere, Stiles,” she says, though it’s a little off topic. But he’d rather be off topic right now, so. “All around you. It’s in the air you breathe, in the steps you take—”

“In the moves you make,” Stiles teases. Claudia slaps at his arm with the back of her hand, though not hard enough for it to actually hurt.

“I’m being serious, Mieczysław.” Ooh, real first name, that’s bad. Stiles straightens. “Magic is everywhere and being a spark means you have access to that magic, that it flows _through_ you rather than _by_ you. You, when you’re experienced enough, will be your own moonstone. You will channel the energy and use it to move mountains, I have no doubt about that. And here, in Beacon Hills? There is no better place to be. Beacon Hills is a more magical than you know. It is a beacon to supernatural people and creatures, and it is our job to protect the humans from any threats while also gaining powerful allies and helping all those in need. You have a big duty ahead of you, _kochanie_. Don’t let my failures scare you off from doing said duty. Don’t attempt to waste it.”

Stiles nods, taking it all in for a moment. He would be Emissary to the Hale pack, to Talia, and therefore Emissary to the Great Alpha of the Pacific Northwest, or whatever Theo had once called it. It does sound like a massive responsibility, but it also kinda sounds like they need him. So long as he gets his shit together.

“I understand, _mamo_. I won’t.”

She smiles brightly at him and leans over to kiss his forehead. He thinks that maybe everything will be okay.

+++

After another few hours in the attic with his mom, and she had gotten so excited that she even broke out the Latin and encouraged him to start practicing as soon as he could, Stiles heads downstairs to collapse on the couch in front of the tv. John is watching basketball and looking like he hates his life, so who better is there to bug?

“Your team not winning?” Stiles asks. John gestures absently at the tv.

“I don’t understand this game at all,” he admits, sounding totally lost. Stiles starts laughing and snatches the remote off the armchair his dad is sitting in. He starts flipping through the channels until they land on baseball, which they both like a helluva lot more than basketball.

It’s quiet for a few moments before John speaks up. “So how are you adjusting, kiddo?”

Stiles throws a look John’s way, but he’s still fixed on the tv before him. Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know, I mean… It’s, like, kinda hard finding out one day you have magic powers? Never thought that I’d have to say that, let alone think it, but here we are.”

“I’m sorry, Stiles, I—”

“No, no, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not, but I really don’t wanna keep doing the apology thing, so… It’s fine.” They both quiet down again for another couple of minutes before Stiles starts talking again. “I mean… It sucks. Like, everything was normal—well, as normal as it’s ever going to be what with the whole mates thing and werewolves and whatever—but it was fine and I was comfortable and then the Pack shows up and everything goes to shit and now I have no idea what to do and I keep managing to piss people off or get them hurt and now I’m supposed to be this great Emissary with this amazing spark and I don’t even know how to use it or do that or be that or whatever and Theo and I are fighting now because I was probably being dumb and then Derek’s all—”

“What about Derek?” John raises an eyebrow at Stiles.

“No, shaddup, I mean…” He puts his face in his hands. “I just really like him and now he’s being all nice and this _blows_.”

John isn’t saying anything so Stiles peeks out from behind his hands and sees that his dad is barely reining in his laughter. “Oh, yuk it up!” Stiles groans, crossing his arms over his face and slumping further into the couch. John bursts out laughing and has a good minute or so of deep belly laughter before he manages to calm down.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it’s just—really, kid? You’re all embarrassed because you have a crush on your soulmate? I think that’s pretty standard. I mean, I have a crush on your mom, but you don’t see me getting all goofy about it.”

Stiles sits up to glare at his dad. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to? You’re _always_ goofy about Mom. Around her, in front of her, in front of other people. You are never _not_ goofy about Mom.”

John laughs again. “Okay, yeah, but my point is, is that you’re allowed to be goofy about and to him, but you’re forgetting the whole “to him” part. I don’t think he’d mind if you—”

“Shaddup, please, God, please. Let’s not talk about this, please.” Stiles has his face back in his hands.

John snickers. Stiles is glad at least one of them is enjoying his life. “Okay, sure, whatever.” They go another five minutes before John breaks the silence again. “Hey, uh, kid? I _am_ sorry. That your mom and I lied to you about everything. We should’ve told you and it wasn’t fair of us to try to keep that from you. You deserved to know.”

Stiles stares at his dad for a minute and sniffles, nodding his head. “Thank you. I—it means a lot to me that you’re apologizing,” he adds, because sometimes he can be mature, contrary to popular belief.

John nods. “You know, what I don’t understand is how your spark was so active when you were little. I mean, as a baby. And then when you were a little kid, it just grew dormant. Your mom and I never understood that.”

“It was active when I was a baby? What do you mean?”

“Like, toys would miraculously find their way over to you after playtime was over and the fridge would open and shut if you were hungry. It’s like you had tele—uh, tele—wait, what’s the one that they can move stuff with their mind?”

“Telekinesis,” Stiles offers.

“Right, yeah. Like you had telekinesis. I genuinely thought you had superpowers, to be honest. But then when you turned four—” His dad stops mid-speech like something’s just clicked in his brain. “Huh.”

“What?”

John snorts. “When you turned four, it stopped. Right when you met Derek, actually.”

Stiles opens and closes his mouth a couple of times before finding the right words. “What? _Why_?”

“I don’t know. I mean, your spark protected you your whole life, you know? Gave you toys when you wanted them, tried to feed you when you were hungry, saved you from a couple nasty spills by moving the furniture out of the way. Things like that. It was like its own entity, you know? That’s just how strong of a grip you had over it, like it was doing all the things you wanted to do but couldn’t because you were a baby. So maybe when Derek came into the picture, it realized that it didn’t need to protect you like that anymore. Maybe it realized that you already had a protector.”

Stiles just sits there, expression completely blank, staring off into the distance for a long moment. Then he presses his lips together tightly and nods his head and slumps back against the couch. John watches him for a moment before turning back to the tv.

They say nothing else on the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dzień dobry means good morning in polish; also kochanie is a term of endearment in polish like darling almost, and mamo means mom, because i don't think i ever mentioned those my bad (i also realize i've been legit spelling kochanie wrong like this entire time, mostly just in the last chapter, so i will go back and fix that lmao my bad y'all)
> 
> they will kiss y'all! i wrote a kissing scene and it's unfortunately still a ways off, but i'll be honest: the original kissing scene wasn't supposed to happen until like the last few chapters of this story (which i still don't have a count, but i'm thinking 20-30, i know that's a big difference but there's still so much to write!) but basically i just moved the kissing scene WAYYY up so y'all will be seeing it sooner and we can have the aftermath of the kissing scene! yay!
> 
> also, it's crazy how much what claudia says influences stiles' thinking, john too, for that matter. we'll see more of that later, but i'm going back and reading over everything and i'm like, "oh, yeah, that's where he got that idea from!"
> 
> and the theo fight and door slamming upstairs, we'll see that in the next chapter (don't hate stiles too much, he just found out he's a wizard, harry, he's a little upsetti spaghetti by this shocking turn of events) but we love big sister!laura and cora being done with everyone's shit, it's great
> 
> also, this more pertains to last chapter, but i'm gonna put it here anyway: no one's soulmate pull is as strong as stiles and derek's was, but no one really knows that (just yet) because there's no real way to compare the pulls. what the means, basically, is that stiles and derek are strong mates (which we already knew) and not that the others aren't strong either, but they're not nearly as strong as stiles and derek :)
> 
> thank you all so much for the love and support! i'm gonna try to post a little earlier this week bc i love you guys so much and want you to have more sterek content sooner! and sorry for this long ass end note lol i'm going now, but thank you, seriously <3


	8. i'll make it up to you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “His mate?!” he hisses. “Please! He doesn’t even look at me like—he can’t stand me.”
> 
> Cora squints her eyes at Stiles. “You really are dumber than you look and I promise you, that’s saying a lot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no real warnings this chapter, just long overdue conversations
> 
> and i can't wait for the next few chapters y'all, i'm thrilled, we're getting to the nitty gritty
> 
> chapter title comes from "i'm so sorry" by imagine dragons

When Stiles clambers out of his Jeep Monday morning, he doesn’t feel nearly any of the anxieties from the weekend. He’s still got the moonstone on him, because it’s been doing wonders for his dreams and sleep—honestly, the only other time he ever slept that soundly was when he was sleeping next to Derek, but he doesn’t want to think about that—and he feels good. He feels like he can conquer the world.

He’s strolling up to the entrance of the school when Scott barrels into him and knocks him off balance. Scott also catches him, so he doesn’t go far, but he still complains.

“Dude, what the _hell_?”

Scott smiles brightly at him and stops right in front of him. “I have great news.”

“And that was worth almost killing me over?” It’s dramatic, but whatever, he’s well aware.

“Yes, Stiles, listen. So, yesterday, I was practicing my shift you know,” Scott says, whispering the word “shift” so the humans don’t hear it. Stiles smiles because that’s kind of adorable, Scott thinking if he’s quiet enough that people won’t still think he’s weird. Not that Stiles has a leg to stand on. “And then Allison texted me asking if she could come over, but she was already outside, so basically—”

“Allison saw you shifted,” Stiles concludes, not wanting to drag the story out, already seeing where this is going. He kind of figured this would happen, especially considering Deaton said that she would’ve felt the change when Scott was bit. Stiles wonders why it took Allison so long to see Scott in the first place.

“Yeah and she’s okay with it! I told her everything, too, all about you and the shadow thing and the Alphas—”

“ _Scott_ ,” Stiles groans, putting his head in his hands.

“No, no, no, but it’s okay! She’s totally okay! She told me that there was something she had to tell me, too, that she’d tell me tomorrow. Today, technically.”

“Scott, that wasn’t your secret to tell, dude,” Stiles grumbles, removing his hands. “You should’ve—you _shouldn’t’ve_ —”

“No, I know, I know, man. It’s just… It’s Allison. She’s not going to, like, tell her magical friends or anything, you know? I think it’ll be okay.”

Stiles shakes his head, but Scott does kind of have a point. What’s the worst that Allison, sweet, little, badass Allison, could do?

Stiles sighs and throws his arm around Scott’s shoulders, steering them toward the main doors. “If this blows up in our faces, I’m blaming you.”

“Guess we’d be even then,” Scott teases.

“Low blow, Scotty, what the hell, man?”

He and Scott make it to their lockers with minimal bodily injury. Stiles is recounting to Scott, as quietly as he can, about the whole spark thing and how it goes back generations, when someone new bumps into him. He turns around and sees Theo there, dressed in an olive jumpsuit with her hair piled on top of her head and looking sheepish, which is such a strange look on her.

“Uh, hey, dude,” Stiles says. Theo stares at him.

“Look, I’m sorry—”

“I didn’t mean to—”

They both stop talking as quickly as they started. Then Stiles gestures to himself. “Can I just say first that I am so sorry about Saturday, like that was—”

Theo waves a hand. “No, don’t even worry about it, I snapped at you for no reason—”

“But I didn’t need to break that vase, that was a bit over the top—”

“You were just angry and letting out steam and you had every right to be. I literally should not have scolded you and been so harsh, that was a real dick move of me, Stiles. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. I don’t even know why we were fighting.”

Theo laughs and pulls him into a tight, warm hug. “Let’s never do that again, yeah?”

Stiles squeezes her back. “That sounds like a great idea.”

Scott coos at them and waits for a moment before joining in on their hug. They laugh and hug Scott back. When everyone pulls back, Stiles feels like a partial weight has been lifted off his chest.

“Let’s just promise to not talk about what we were talking about when we fought, okay?” Stiles squeezes in there, because he doesn’t want to talk about it if he can avoid it.

Theo’s eyes get a little bit brighter than they’re supposed to as a human and she grits her teeth, but says, “That incredibly frustrates me… But if you don’t want to talk about it, we don’t have to. I respect that.”

Stiles smiles. “Thanks, Theo.”

“So… Wanna see my new _Silver Surfer_ comic?” Scott asks after a slightly awkward pause, reaching into his backpack. “Well, I guess it’s not new, but it’s new to me!”

Stiles and Theo share a look before laughing again, but both eagerly help Scott get the comic from his bag.

+++

Stiles has made it through the morning and is currently heading to lunch when someone slaps the back of his head, albeit lightly. Stiles whirls around to glare at the target only to see Cora standing there, arms crossed over her chest. She’s a year younger than them, only a freshman, but she seems to think she’s the big Alpha on campus, which Stiles thinks is absolutely hilarious. Like when a chihuahua thinks it’s a rottweiler, only this chihuahua can and will tear Stiles’ ass up.

“Uh, what the fuck?” he asks. Cora scowls harder at him and it reminds him of Derek. Something pulls in his chest slightly.

“You need to talk to Derek,” she demands. Speak of the devil. Stiles crosses his arms over his chest in turn. She scowls even harder. “I’m serious, Stiles. He’s all messed up right now.”

“Wha—I didn’t do anything to him!”

“Yeah, right. Apparently, whatever happened Saturday he’s upset about. You need to go talk to him.”

Saturday? Wait, the… The almost kiss? Well, no, it wasn’t really almost a kiss, but Stiles didn’t initiate that, more importantly! And Laura came in the room and started laughing at them, but that wasn’t his fault either. Though it did nothing to help his ego. And then there was the whole Theo disaster, but Derek wasn’t there for that. Or, oh God, he hopes Derek wasn’t there for that.

Wait… The door slamming… Theo getting mad… But wait, was the door slam after Stiles talked about Derek or before? Wait, did he say anything about his feelings to Derek? He can’t remember! _Oh God_ …

“Oh my God,” Stiles groans, smushing his face into his hands. “Derek heard all that?”

Cora smiles at him tightly like she’d rather use his innards as a jump rope. “He’s, understandably, pissed. Also, what’s your weird thing with Theo?”

“What?” Stiles peeks at Cora. She makes a non-descript motion with her hand, waving it in the same way Laura does.

“Your weird boner for her? Constantly hugging her, grabbing her, laying on her… What’s up with that?”

“I’m not—” Stiles flushes. “I don’t think of Theo like that.”

Cora doesn’t even need to sniff the air. “Lie,” she announces. Stiles rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “That’s probably why Derek’s so pissed at you all the time, you know. You’re supposed to be _his_ mate.”

Stiles laughs loudly and incredulously. “His mate?!” he hisses, bringing his volume back down because even though the hallways are pretty empty right now, he doesn’t need anyone overhearing this. “Please! He doesn’t even look at me like—he can’t stand me.”

Cora squints her eyes at Stiles. “You really are dumber than you look and I promise you, that’s saying a lot.” Then she turns and walks off down the hallway toward the cafeteria.

Stiles stands there in the middle of the empty hall, completely at a loss for words. He doesn’t think of Theo like that. Obviously. Well, maybe a little, but he’s a teenage boy! He can’t help it! Theo’s adorable and awesome and laughs at his dumb jokes and has dumb ones of her own and knows how to kick back and relax and is so damn beautiful and snarky and muscly and…

Well, okay. So maybe he has a thing for Theo, just a bit, but a lot of that stuff is because of Derek. Like, Stiles thinks that Derek is also adorable in his own way and awesome, in his own way, and he doesn’t really laugh at Stiles’ jokes, not really, or make any of his own, and he can’t ever seem to kick back and relax, but he is really beautiful and snarky and muscly and so, yeah, maybe Stiles likes Theo, but that’s mainly Derek’s fault.

Wait, no, that sounds messed up. That _is_ messed up.

God, now he’s getting all confused himself. This would just be easier if everything was back to the way that it was before, back when there was no nalusa chito or spark or Emissary, when Derek was rude and ignored him and literally only talked to him in cases of extreme emergency, but Stiles could handle all of that.

The Derek who came to him over the weekend was not _his_ Derek—and that’s a scary thought, to think of any Derek as _his_ Derek—but some Martian that got stuck here on the return journey home. This Weekend Derek was nice and kind and gave a shit about Stiles and slept in his bed and cuddled with him and stuck his nose in Stiles’ neck and—

  
That’s not Normal Derek Behavior. So excuse Stiles for getting freaked out and seeking the company of Theo’s arms because he knows that she’s like a better version of Derek most days and—

No, that’s fucked up too. _Derek_ is a good version of Derek, just the way he is. That’s the whole problem, remember? Stiles likes him just that way and doesn’t want to see him any other way. He never told Derek that he needed to tone it down, even though he was gonna do that Saturday. Derek had probably wandered into the living room right when Stiles was being bitchy and—God, was that what Cora was whistling about?! He’s such an idiot!—and he heard everything and he got pissed because he was just trying to be nice for Stiles during this trying time and Stiles pushed him away without even really meaning to. He clung to Theo and tried to seek comfort from her and pushed Derek away—all like a total jackass—and now he has to deal with the repercussions. And he hasn’t even bothered to check in with Derek at all this entire weekend.

God, he’s a total dick.

No wonder Derek’s so pissed at him.

Stiles tries to feel through the bond if there’s any emotions there, but it’s just as dull and muted as it was yesterday morning. He wonders how long it’s been like that, how long he just hasn’t noticed.

Okay, so, clearly he needs to apologize to Derek for a number of reasons, first and foremost being that he’s the world’s worst mate (which, like, he knew, but didn’t need proving, y’know?). And then he’s going to tell Derek that while he appreciates the recent concern that Derek’s been showing, he needs to, respectfully, lay off, because it’s starting to freak Stiles out. And then he needs to tell Derek that there is really nothing going on between him and Theo, because he didn’t realize that’s what people thought? He wonders how many people actually think that, how long he’s been projecting his feelings for Derek onto Theo and just, what, hoping she bites? He’s so pathetic. He’s now becoming increasingly more aware of just how pathetic he truly is.

Right, so, anyway, now that he’s got a game plan, he just has to find Derek. Given that his whole bond thing isn’t working out too well, he decides it’s probably easiest to try the cafeteria first, so he can, like, stealth attack Derek with apologies. But if that doesn’t work, he’ll stick to good old fashioned texting.

He trots off to the cafeteria and prays that Derek is there so that he can not only rip the band-aid off while he still has the balls to do it, but also so he can get this done sooner, because who knows how long he’s been making Derek feel like shit. And that’s the last thing he ever wanted to do, especially to Derek.

He enters the cafeteria and thanks his lucky stars because Derek is actually sitting there at the table with all their mutual friends, who Stiles slowly realizes are mainly Stiles’ friends. Wow, actually, if it weren’t for Boyd, Erica, Isaac, or Cora or Theo, and maybe Malia on her good days, there’d be no reason for Derek to even sit there. He wonders how long Derek has been silently molding his life to fit Stiles’, and how maybe Stiles never noticed because he wanted Derek to be brash and extroverted like he is, like Theo is. Maybe that’s why he keeps favoring her, because he’ll always love her as a friend, but he did always want something more with her, didn’t he? And if he never met Theo, if her parents had never moved her to California to live with her dad’s big sister Talia, would he have taken up that infatuation with Cora? Malia?

He shudders just thinking about it.

He quickly shakes off his thought process and crosses the room to stand at their table, to stand a bit behind Derek, who tenses as soon as Stiles walks over.

“Can I talk to you?” Stiles asks low enough that only the weres can hear him, fiddling with the straps of his backpack. Derek remains tense for another moment before standing up with his tray, grabbing his backpack, and making for the door. Stiles chases after him, ignoring Jackson’s rude cajoles to his retreating back (though he does hear quite a few people tell him to shut up, so that’s pretty nice).

Derek dumps his entire tray in the trash before stalking out of the cafeteria. Stiles continues to tail him for a bit until he finally gives up and grabs Derek’s wrist, pulling him to a halt.

“Look,” Stiles grits out, holding tightly to Derek’s wrist. They both know he can easily break out of the hold, but the fact that he hasn’t, and the fact that he’s letting Stiles touch him like this, means something, something that sits pleasantly with Stiles. “I—I don’t even know why you’re pissed off—” Derek growls and starts to move away, but Stiles just uses his wrist as a point of interest to move around Derek so that he’s properly facing him, even if Derek won’t meet his eyes. “I mean, I don’t know why you’re pissed off because you have so many reasons to be pissed off. Lord knows that if I was in your position, I’d be furious. I’d probably have taken my head off by now.”

Derek growls menacingly, but Stiles knows he only means it a little bit, so he proceeds. “I know that you probably overheard me say some not nice things to Theo, who—by the way, Theo and I? That’s not a thing. That’s never been a thing and never will be a thing. That’s just—you know, in case you were worried or whatever.” Stiles swallows and averts his eyes. “But, I said stuff to her about you and it wasn’t entirely true and like, honestly, I barely remember what I said, but I know it probably wasn’t flattering and I know I didn’t mean it. I’ve just been so—like, it’s not even an excuse, but this whole Emissary thing and magic thing have got me all turned around and confused and—

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry for acting like a dick and being rude to you, I never meant to—I didn’t ever want to do that. I—you—this bond, even—means a lot to me and I would never do anything to, like, tarnish that. I realize that I haven’t always been the greatest mate and you—God, Derek, you deserve a lot better, and I’m sorry that you’re—look, just… I appreciate all the concern lately, what with me almost dying. I really appreciate that and you’re being… A really good mate and whatever. And I just want this to stop being all messed up, I mean, like, I want us to just be us again, you know? I’m just… I’m sorry. For everything, I guess. And thank you. For everything.”

Stiles figures it’s best to quit while he’s ahead so he shuts his mouth and lets go of Derek’s wrist finally because there’s no use in pinning the guy there, and waits to see what’s gonna happen.

He can hardly meet Derek’s eyes and he can’t stop twitching or fiddling with things because the silence is dragging on for a really long time and he doesn’t know if he should try to say something again or if he should just stay quiet and hope for the best like he’s been doing or if he should just straight up leave and give Derek some room to think.

He’s planning on the third option when Derek suddenly moves forward and pulls him into an embrace, wrapping his beefy arms around Stiles’ shoulders and dropping his face into Stiles’ neck and taking a deep inhale through his nose. Stiles scrambles to hug him back, bringing his arms around Derek’s trim waist and mushing his own face into Derek’s pec, which is also a perfect pillow for his face, who knew?

They stand there holding onto each other for a really long time, longer than Stiles likes to stand still, but he thinks that this must be really important to Derek, so he’s not going to ruin it for him.

Stiles is thinking about how to tell Derek he has to pee when he finally lets go and moves back a bit so Stiles can properly see him. Derek’s face looks soft and calm, the way it typically does when he’s by himself for a long time or when he’s surrounded by pack on good days, like days when they go to the beach or the movies together. Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever seen that expression on Derek in regards to himself, but he’s deeply happy it’s there now.

“Are we…Okay?” He can’t help but break the silence. Honestly, it’s a true surprise how he didn’t break it sooner. But Derek just nods, seemingly unable to find the right words right now, and Stiles decides it’s really not his place to judge anyway.

He takes Derek’s hand and kisses the knuckles, even though it’s daylight, even though someone might come walk in on them, even though Derek’s awake (though that last part does sound creepy), even though Derek can see him doing this. He kisses them softly and looks back up at Derek, at the serene expression, and smiles at him.

Derek stares for a long moment before he smiles back, small and private, like it’s carved specially for Stiles.

_We’ll be okay_ , Derek says without having to say it, just by looking into Stiles’ eyes.

_I know_ , Stiles replies with his own look, because he does. Surer than he knows his own name, he knows that no matter what comes to pass, they’ll make it through.

They always do.

+++

Stiles and Derek don’t go back to lunch after that, mainly because Derek made a big scene and it would look absolutely moronic if they went back to the table right now (well, it wasn’t that big of a scene, but they would probably definitely get teased if they went back, so they don’t). They decide to go hang out in Finstock’s classroom, mostly because he’s the only teacher who leaves their door unlocked. Stiles takes a seat at the desk up front and Derek sits in one of the student desks in the first row, leaning back in his seat like he’s trying to act all cool.

“Is this how you look in all your classes? Like a smarmy dick that doesn’t need to pay attention because his daddy’s got enough money to pay his way through university?” Stiles inquires, kicking his feet up on the desk. Derek snorts.

“Was all that just so you could use smarmy in a sentence?” Stiles rolls his eyes.

“No, obviously not, that’d just be fatuous.”

Derek chuckles lowly, but doesn’t say anything else. The problem now is that they’re just staring at each other, like they’re waiting for the other person to do something wild. Stiles doesn’t know if this is because of the whole magic thing or because he’s been a total jerk recently, but it’s like Derek’s waiting for him to do something… Special or important or whatever. And Stiles doesn’t know what that something is.

And he’s waiting for Derek to turn around and remember how awful Stiles is and freak out on him, but that doesn’t seem to be happening either. So instead they’re just sitting there, staring at each other.

Stiles wonders if it’s like a game of chicken, and realizes that, yeah, it’s exactly like that. Who’s going to move first? That’s what this is all about. Not what they do, but who’s gonna cave first. Stiles loves competition, however, and immediately decides that it’s definitely not going to be him.

He leans back in his chair and piques an eyebrow at Derek, but rather than deterring the werewolf, that only seems to encourage him. Because now Derek leans forward in his desk seat, leaning on his forearms to support his upper torso, and gives Stiles an equally pointed look.

“Wow, you could cut that sexual tension with a knife,” someone chirps from the door. Stiles starts and is immensely thankful that so does Derek, because that means that neither of them heard this mystery person coming, which makes life slightly less embarrassing.

Or not because Derek is a werewolf and Stiles is a spark who has magical creatures and beings actively hunting him.

Scott stands there, with Allison, Kira, Malia, and pretty much all the other supernatural beings in their group (though that really just extends to Cora, Erica, Boyd, and Theo). The person who spoke was, of course, Erica, who has no filter and does not give a shit about anything. Scott smiles at them.

“Are we interrupting?” he asks, though it’s kind of too late for that. Stiles wants to tell him yes, but then he would have to explain what exactly they were interrupting and he didn’t know himself, so, better just pretend like this is a perfectly normal event.

“Nope, no, not interrupting anything. We weren’t doing anything,” Stiles swears vehemently. Some of the girls snicker and Stiles decides he hates them all.

“Well, we _weren’t_ ,” Derek says, gives Stiles another pointed look. Stiles raises an eyebrow back at him.

“Exactly! We weren’t!”

Stiles and Derek stare at each other for another long moment.

“Right! Okay, so…” Scott claps his hands together and herds everyone into the room, shutting the door behind them. “Well, that’s great, because Allison has something she wants to tell everyone and I figured you guys should be present.”

“How did you find us anyway?” Stiles asks. Scott taps the side of his nose.

“Super senses, bro,” he says at the same time Cora says, “We followed the scent of repressed homoerotic urges.”

Stiles chokes on nothing and no one saves him, though Theo does slap Cora’s arm. Stiles pointedly does not look up to see Derek’s reaction.

He wonders, somewhat belatedly but definitely not for the first time, if Derek is even gay. Or, like, bi. Because Stiles is definitely bi, he’s known that forever, but Stiles has also never even heard of Derek liking a single person, like ever, so he wonders if he’s even into dudes. He must be if he bonded with Stiles, who is very much so a male, but then again he’s heard of platonic bonds before and as much as it pains him to even think about, he supposes that could be what this is. But he wouldn’t crush this hard on a platonic bond, would he? He literally doesn’t know anything anymore.

“Earth to Stilinski?” Erica is saying, snapping her fingers. He pays attention to her. She smirks and crosses her arms over her chest, which accentuates her breasts rather nicely. He immediately stops looking because her mate is right there and Stiles’ mate is right over there and that’s just a recipe for disaster. And Erica’s there, obviously. But, let’s be real, she wouldn’t tear Stiles’ head off for looking at her breasts, she’d encourage it.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m here.” More snickers and he decides he really hates his friends. “What are we talking about?”

“Allison, actually, if you will,” Scott says, gesturing for her to take the center stage. She comes and stands right next to Stiles behind the desk, her bag in her arms. She smiles prettily at everyone.

Stiles feels a twinge of annoyance and loathing coming through the bond and—hey, least that’s working again—which, weird, because Stiles can’t think of a time that it ever crapped out quite like this before, he should probably look into that—and looks up at Derek to see a similar expression on his face. He tries to gesture for Derek to stop it, but Derek is glaring solely at Allison and Stiles doesn’t want to call attention to what is happening.

“Right, so, Scott, as I’m sure everyone knows, recently became a werewolf—”

“Yeah, because of Stilinski,” Erica teases. Stiles flushes with shame and Derek snarls, which, great, we’re back to that as well. Erica, however, shuts her mouth.

“Riiight… So, anyway, Scott became a werewolf, which, isn’t anyone’s fault except for the person who bit him—” Allison nudges Stiles with his foot and he decides he loves her a little bit more. “—but that’s not the point. The point is that I have something I have to tell all of you. My family are—”

“Hunters,” Derek growls, his eyes shining gold. He rises from his seat and suddenly Scott is jumping up to growl at him and Stiles jumps over the desk as skillfully as he can and rushes over to throw himself in front of Derek, spinning so his back is to him and he’s facing everyone else. He’s pretty sure Derek won’t tear him into ribbons, more sure than he is that Scott won’t. Allison looks calm, but beneath her placid expression, Stiles can tell she’s slightly nervous.

“Okay, okay, whoa whoa whoa. We don’t need the theatrics, buddy,” Stiles says, pushing himself back firmly into Derek’s body, trying to force Derek to calm down. He feels hands grab his waist, claws scratching gently at his shirt. Derek is plenty in control, he’s just livid.

“Everybody calm down,” Stiles instructs, trying to sound like the voice of reason.

“I’ll calm down when he calms down,” Scott grumbles. Stiles narrows his eyes and straightens.

“I said, _knock it off_.” Scott gives Stiles a surprised look, but his eyes fade and his fangs and claws recede. Erica and Boyd in the corner is no longer smiling or smirking and the Hale girls look less like they’re ready for war now. Kira’s been unaffected by all of this, also trying to calm Malia down.

Stiles feels Derek’s claws shrink until they’re blunt nails again, but he still holds onto Stiles’ hips.

“That’s what an Emissary does,” Derek whispers into his ear, low enough that Stiles doesn’t think anyone else can hear. He tries to suppress his shivers and clears his throat, gesturing at Allison.

“Proceed,” he tells her. Allison glances once around the room before clinging a little tighter to her bag.

“Yes, my family are Hunters. I didn’t know until this year, actually, right before Scott and I bonded. But when I felt him get bit, I knew it was going to be a problem. But then we talked yesterday and he explained a whole bunch of things to me, which I already knew, but from a different perspective, I realized there’s a lot my family got wrong about supernatural beings. And I definitely don’t want to hunt them. Well, at least, not the good ones.” Allison reaches into her bag and pulls out a huge bulky book that looks more like a tome that anything. She drops it on the desk and turns it so that it’s properly facing everyone else in the room.

“This,” she drops her hand on the book, “is the Argent Bestiary. This is everything my family knows about the supernatural and its creatures. I managed to swipe it late last night and I’m sure they’ll notice it’s missing soon. But I think the problems you’ve been having, Stiles, I think we can find answers in here.”

Stiles laughs breathlessly. “You… Are incredible, Allison!”

She grins back at him before holding a hand up. “The only problem is that it’s written in Archaic Latin.”

Scott turns to look at Derek, his anger from earlier forgotten. “Does your mom or someone know Archaic Latin?”

Derek shakes his head. “Not that I know of.”

“I know someone who does,” Stiles admits. Allison gives him a sympathetic look.

“Problem is, if we ask her to translate it, she’ll want to know what for,” Allison notes. “And time is kind of, of the essence.”

“Wait, who?” Theo asks, arms crossed over her chest.

“Lydia,” Stiles sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He gestures to the book. “Look, all we need is a picture of the page it’s on—if it’s in there—and then we can show her that, right? We can tell her it’s for a school project or something.”

“She won’t buy that,” Cora chirps up. “Lydia’s too smart for that. We’ll have to show her, tell her.”

“We can’t risk the Pack like that,” Derek replies, shaking his head. “That’s the whole—we absolutely can’t—”

“And what if this is how we save Stiles, huh?” Theo asks, waving a hand around. That must just be a Hale girl move, Stiles realizes. “Are you really going to risk that?”

“Don’t,” Derek snarls, “don’t you dare do that.”

“Look, maybe we should tell her. I mean, this is probably for the better and your mom will forgive us—” Erica, of all people, chimes in. Derek huffs and grabs his things, moving slowly past Stiles before making his way for the door.

“Derek—” Stiles calls.

“Do whatever you want, put the entire Pack at risk if you want. But when Hunters come, they’re coming for all of us, so I hope you’re prepared for that,” Derek sneers to the entire room, and leaves in a huff.

Everything is quiet for a few moments before Stiles realizes everyone is looking at him, waiting for him to say something.

“Oh, uh…” He glances around. “Um, I guess let’s get Lydia in on this. But as discreet as possible. I want to express how important it is that we are discreet and quick. I’m gonna…” He makes a vague wave toward the door, but everyone’s seems to understand. He grabs his stuff and heads out, trying to follow Derek.

His bond is still all cloudy, but he has a vague inkling of where the guy went. He heads outside to the lacrosse field and sees Derek sitting on the bleachers. Stiles walks over and takes a seat beside him.

After a moment, Derek says, “How did you find me? The bond’s all clouded to me, how did you see through it?”

Stiles snorts. “No, dude, it’s clouded to me too. But you always come out here and sit on the bleachers before games, until Coach calls you back inside anyway. This is like your Think Rock.”

Derek snorts and wipes at his nose, looking pointedly at his sneakers. Stiles doesn’t necessarily want to pry, but he also realizes that he sort of has to, at this point. That’s like his duty as a mate.

“Is this about Kate Argent?” he asks. Derek looks up at him, utterly bewildered, which is pretty much an admission of guilt right there.

“What do you know about K—about _her_?”

Stiles raises an eyebrow at Derek. “Well, nothing, really. But you always get all clammy and freeze up whenever she’s mentioned. And you seem to hate Allison for no good reason, so maybe it’s just the Argents in general, but I don’t know. I always thought it was something about Kate. I mean, she’s away at college, I know, but it just seemed like it mattered to you or something.”

“No, she doesn’t—no. It doesn’t matter.”

Stiles recognizes that there’s something that Derek just isn’t telling him, and that kind of breaks his heart because what could possibly be so bad that Derek feels like he can’t tell Stiles? Like, Stiles is the least likely person to judge. Well, okay, maybe that’s not true, but still. Derek can talk to him.

“Are you sure there’s not—is there anything that you, like, want to tell me? I mean, you don’t have to or anything, but… Derek, if something happened—”

“Nothing happened,” Derek says, too quickly for Stiles to dismiss it. He does, however, decide not to push the issue because Derek is clearly uncomfortable by this and Stiles doesn’t want to make it worse. He definitely wants to strangle Kate Argent until her eyes pop out of her skull and her face turns purple for making Derek feel this way, but he’s not sure if that’s because Derek is his mate or if he’s just that naturally protective.

He hums and nods and turns his attention back to the field. He’s been skipping lacrosse a lot lately, what with Derek’s overprotective hovering and his own natural inability to do anything coordinated with his limbs, it just seemed like a good idea. He kind of misses it, bizarrely, even though he never plays in the games or anything. But he misses watching everyone play and have a good time and he does love watching Derek pummel Jackson into the ground, he misses that a lot. Maybe when this is all over he’ll come back. Granted, he has no idea when this is going to be over with.

Stiles feels a twinge of empathy go through the bond and sends one back himself. Then he reaches over and takes Derek’s hand in his because he thinks he’s allowed to do this right now, and laces their fingers together. Derek says nothing, but he squeezes Stiles’ hand a little tighter, which says enough for him.

Stiles vows to figure out what the hell Kate Argent ever did to Derek, no matter how unpleasant it is, because not only is he Stiles’ mate, but something like his friend too, and friends don’t let friends remain psychologically tormented by strange older women. And, on top of all that, Stiles selfishly likes when Derek’s attention is focused on him, so he’ll do what he can to turn that laser focus back his way.

He drops his head to Derek’s shoulder and leans into him. Derek, after a couple minutes, slowly leans back, and they say nothing else on the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> drama lol, lots of stuff happening, extra sterek bc i feel bad it's been so dry recently
> 
> apologies are great, stiles definitely projects his feelings onto women (he did that same shit in the show) and this is me better explaining it
> 
> this is i think our first real glance at emissary!stiles, so that's exciting! i love him kicking names and taking ass
> 
> isaac is there btw, he's just not a werewolf in this one, and we'll briefly talk about that later, though he still shares a lot of the same feelings toward derek and erica and boyd 
> 
> also, we get a glimpse at derek's mandatory tragic backstory, because as much as i hate making them suffer, i love making my characters suffer, you know? and him and stiles' bond is better, which we'll have to investigate, and there are feelings spilling out all over the place. exciting stuff!
> 
> sorry, i've been messing with previous chapters by the way, i tried to make stiles younger before i realized that that would mean he can't drive lmao so i'm going to go back and fix my stuff again, because i'm the dumbest person alive, i apologize y'all


	9. blame it on my ADD baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yes, I think that’s a good idea.” Talia looks at Stiles. “We’re going to fix this, Stiles. We’ll find who did this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look at me, uploading early in the morning before noon, who am i?
> 
> chapter title comes from "sail" from awolnation, which the title doesn't really have anything to do with the chapter, but works well for stiles, i think, or is that too on the nose?

Stiles’ friends make the group decision to just corner Lydia after school in her chemistry class, which will thankfully be unoccupied because Harris has a teacher’s meeting after school. Stiles, Erica, Boyd, Scott, and Allison all already share that class, which is nice. Kira and the Hale girls have decided to head home and tell Talia about what’s going on. Derek said he wants no part of this, but Stiles can feel that he’s somewhere still at school, probably waiting from him. The thought warms him up.

Boyd takes watch outside, which is totally not innocuous like they’re going for, but whatever. Stiles, Scott, Allison, and Erica flank around Lydia, which is not innocuous either and she definitely notices.

“What the hell are you doing?” Lydia asks, pausing from where she’s tucking her chemistry notebook back in her bag. She’s got a pretty braid crown that runs along the top of her head, the rest of her strawberry blonde hair hanging loosely down. Every time Stiles sees her, he’s reminded of how beautiful she is. And, man, he really does have a thing for girls who could destroy him, either physically or mentally or both.

“Just wanted to say hi and see how our resident genius is doing,” Stiles chirps, leaning in closer from where he stands beside her. Lydia glances at him dismissively before looking over at Erica. She and the Wonder Triplets never really got along before Scott and Stiles assembled this group of ragtag misfits, and Lydia and Erica specifically still get into spats from time to time, because they both have such dominant personalities, but usually they’re on good terms. Stiles just hopes this is one of the times when they are on good terms.

“You clearly have an ulterior motive if you brought out the claws,” Lydia says, so off-handedly that Stiles wonders for a second if she actually already knows. But, no, there’s no way she does, so he brushes it off. He does see everyone else shift though, look at each other. Yeah, nothing suspicious happening here.

Lydia sees this too and opens her mouth to say something but Stiles cuts her off. “We have a favor to ask you. It’s really important, like lives are in danger important.”

Lydia raises an perfectly manicured eyebrow at Stiles. “Lives are always in danger when it comes to you, Stilinski.”

Stiles laughs because of how true that statement is and she doesn’t even know. “Yeah, see that’s kind of the problem. I did something—well, I guess I didn’t even do anything this time—but something got done and now something’s trying to kill everyone.”

She doesn’t miss the word choice. “Some _thing_?”

Stiles nods and Allison speaks up. “It’s really bad, Lydia. We need your help.”

“Shouldn’t you be going to the police over this?”

Stiles lets out a little frustrated groan and Scott says, “We don’t need you to like stop it or anything, we just need you to translate this book. It’s in Archaic Latin.”

Lydia furrows her eyebrows. “What makes you think I know Archaic Latin?”

“Lydia Lorraine Martin—” Lydia turns her gaze to Stiles sharply and raises both eyebrows in shock either because of the way he’s speaking to her or by the use of her middle name, which Stiles knows for a fact that nobody, except maybe Jackson, knows “—you are one of the smartest people I have ever met, which is truly saying something because I know some smart ass people. We both know your IQ is over 140 _at the very least_ and that you know more languages than probably anybody at this school. You’re a literal genius and the fact that you play dumb so that people like you is one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard in my life. I don’t know why you continue to hang out with all of us, but you’re our friend now and you owe us and yourself the courtesy of not acting like dull-eyed bimbo.” Lydia raises her eyebrows even more. “I-I mean, like a dumb person. Like there’s no reason to act dumb in front of us. We like you as you are, Lyds. _I_ like you the way you are and I’d like to have finally be able to debate with you about… Fermat’s Last Theorem, or whatever.”

Lydia stares at him for a long moment before adjusting herself in her chair, straightening out her skirt with her hands.

“There’s not much to debate anymore, since you clearly know nothing about Fermat’s conjecture, and the debate wouldn’t give me much of anything.” Then she looks up at Stiles, a small, snarky smile on her lips. “But if you need me to explain some of the more complicated laws of mathematics, I’m sure we can work something out.”

Stiles grins back and rushes forward to bring her into a hug. She makes a startled noise and he pulls back just as quickly. “Sorry, just… Wanted to do that for forever.”

Lydia tries to hide her pleased smile, but Stiles still sees it, though he decides not to call attention to it or embarrass her anymore. He makes a gesture at Allison, who takes the Bestiary out of her bag and sets it down in front of Lydia, flipping open the pages. Lydia stares at the pages of monsters passing her by.

“It’s called a nalusa chito,” Stiles tells Lydia. She glances up at him.

“Wait, what is—monsters? We’re talking hypotheticals, aren’t we? You’re acting like this is real.”

“It is real,” Erica says without warning and starts to shift, just her eyes and teeth and nails, but it’s enough to make Lydia start to scream. Scott brings a hand over her mouth and holds her in place and Allison grabs onto Lydia, trying to calm her down.

“It’s okay! It’s okay!” Stiles says, waving his hands frantically. “Erica, power down!” Erica begrudgingly listens and shifts back. Stiles grabs at Lydia’s hand. “It’s okay, it’s just—she’s—”

“Wha—what was that?” Lydia demands, knocking Scott off her. “You didn’t say anything about—”

“She’s a werewolf,” Stiles supplies. “So is—well, a lot of people we know. Easy to spot once you know what to look for, I think, though maybe I’m biased.” Lydia’s expression is still horrified so Stiles keeps talking. “They’re not like what you think. They’re the good guys. Well, most of the time; I have met some bad ones or like, morally-ambiguous ones but—Erica’s one of the good guys. I’m part of their pack and we’re after this monster that’s after me, the nalusa chito. We need to find out everything we can about it. You’re kind of our only hope right now, Obi Wan.”

“Are… Are you a werewolf too?”

Erica, Scott, and Allison all start laughing at this statement, though Allison is more subtle about it. Stiles glares at them.

“Thanks a lot, guys, that really makes a girl feel special.” He turns his attention back to Lydia. “No, I’m not a werewolf.”

Lydia raises her eyebrows in a sign for him to continue, but he just shakes his head.

“Can you please trust me? Trust us? And help us.”

Lydia presses her lips together and looks down at the Bestiary in front of her, shaking her head.

“This is… I can’t—this is all—”

“Lydia, Lyds,” Stiles leans forward and puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. “We need you right now. I know this is all new and scary and you can’t believe that any of it’s true and I promise we’ll fill you in more later, but right now we need your help. The pack needs you. Can you do that for me? For us?”

Lydia stares up at Stiles for a minute before glancing toward Allison, who gives her an encouraging nod. Then, she squares her shoulders and takes a deep breath, clearing her throat and sitting up straight again. She leans forward and starts flipping through the pages.

“That’s nalusa with an ‘N’, correct?”

Stiles bites back a triumph cry and nods emphatically.

“Yes, yes, exactly.”

Lydia stops to point a finger up at him. “And after I translate this, I want to know everything. No more leaving me in the dark. Understood?”

Stiles nods again. “Yes, absolutely.”

She nods and starts reading aloud. He scrambles to get out a notebook and pencil of his own and starts copying down everything she says.

+++

Once Stiles gets all the information copied, and pictures of the pages just in case, he gives Lydia a big hug that she certainly doesn’t ask for and promises to text her. Allison takes the book back and gives Scott a kiss, telling everyone bye so she can race home and return the Bestiary. Stiles runs into Derek in the hallway, who seems to have been waiting with Boyd, and tells Stiles to meet him at the Hale House so they can show what they found to Talia, mouth an unhappy line, but whatever.

The drive there has him bouncing with all sorts of nervous energy from what they found in the book. He knows his pencil stopped a couple of times out of surprise and that Scott had to nudge him to keep him going. Lydia even stopped once to ask if he was okay, if she was doing okay, which was weird to hear the uncertainty and gentle words coming from her mouth, but Stiles just assured her that she was doing great and everything was fine.

He gets to the Hale House right before Derek does, but only by a hair, and they both pull into the driveway and park next to each other. Stiles purposefully runs into Derek and presses into him kinda like a cat does when they’re rubbing at your legs because they want cuddles. He means it as a comfort thing, which Derek must see it as, because he rubs a hand over Stiles’ back for a moment before they get to the stairs.

When they get inside, Talia is standing in the main entrance, talking with Red. She sees the boys and raises an eyebrow.

“So, would either of you like to explain to me what happened at school today?”

Stiles glances at Derek before realizing that it’s probably him who should be doing the explaining, since he was the one leading the charge. He steps forward.

“So, basically, we kind of— _I_ kind of did the one thing that we’re not supposed to do and I told someone, but it was for the good of the pack! And I really think we can trust her. She’s a good person, despite what she shows to other people, and Lydia would never—”

“Lydia? As in Lydia Martin?” Talia asks, looking a little shocked. Stiles opens his mouth and then closes it, a little confused.

“Uh… Yeah?”

Talia shares a look with Red and they both start chuckling. “Hell of a person to choose,” Red says, smiling. Stiles glances between them.

“Am I in trouble?”

Talia shakes her head. “Derek and the girls already told us about what was going to happen. They didn’t mention who you chose, though.”

Stiles glances at Derek, who merely shrugs. “I wasn’t gonna let you take the blame for it. None of us were.”

“But you expressly told me not to,” Stiles argues, even though he should probably just quit while he’s ahead. But it doesn’t feel right. “You were the one who got mad that we even considered it.”

Derek shrugs again, a hand coming up to scratch at the back of his neck in a gesture that Stiles has never really seen before. Like he’s sheepish or embarrassed or something. “Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I was gonna let you do it alone. You were clearly going to do it whether I liked it or not. I just didn’t want you to be alone through it.”

Stiles only gives himself a moment of staring at Derek with what he’s sure is the most open expression he’s ever wore on his face, before he’s clearing his throat and pointedly looking away. “That’s… Thank you, Derek.”

Derek doesn’t say anything back, but he doesn’t have to. The sentiment is still felt deeply.

“So, uh, why Lydia? I mean, why is she such a good choice?” Stiles asks, looking up at Talia. She has a warm, happy smile on her face as she looks between Stiles and Derek.

“Well, that’s probably a secret for Lydia to tell, though I imagine she might not know herself for another year or two. Perhaps I should have a talk with her mother, though. Maybe it’s time to start her training now.”

“Training? She’s not a… Werewolf?” Stiles furrows his brows. There’s no way she is, it would’ve already been showing by this point. Derek was already all wolfy when Stiles first met him when they were four, though Stiles didn’t understand it until a year later when Derek finally told him.

“No, nothing like that,” Red assures him. “She’s not like anything you’ve ever seen before, yourself included. She’s quite special.”

Stiles glances at Derek to see if he knows what they’re talking about, but Derek seems just as lost as him.

“Right, okay,” he says. “But I did promise to tell her about the pack. As a thank you for her helping us with the Bestiary.”

Talia waves a hand. “That’s fine. We’ll bring Natalie over with Lydia and all sit down and have a discussion about everything, as long as Natalie’s alright with that. Though Lydia might need you there for that discussion, Stiles. You’re the closest thing to human out of all of us; it would be nice for her to have a familiar face.”

“Yeah, of course,” he agrees. Talia nods and makes a loose waving gesture.

“I assume you have what you needed from the Bestiary. Deaton’s already waiting for us.”

Stiles nods and follows Talia and Red back through the house and to the study. On the way there, Laura spots him and grins widely, throwing him two thumbs up. Stiles isn’t positive what that’s all about, but he smiles back at her. She seems elated by this and he laughs and shakes his head.

Deaton is in fact in the study all by himself and he gives Stiles this little head nod when he comes in. Stiles does a little head nod back and drops his backpack by the desk, pulling out his notebook.

“Okay, so, uh, it’s kinda wild,” he says, flipping to the right pages. “So, basically, the nalusa chito is also sometimes called the impa shilup, right? It’s known as the soul eater, the great black being, or the devil.” Stiles clears his throat. “It comes from Choctaw mythology and it says that if you allow evil thoughts or depression to enter your mind, it would creep inside you and eat your soul, which, uh, explains the nightmares and everything. Probably why I was more susceptible to it. But, anyway, shilup literally means like inside shadow or ghost, so it’s the part inside of you that gets corrupted. That’s how the nalusa chito works.”

He goes quiet, not really meeting anyone’s eyes, because it’s kinda lame to tell them all that one of the reasons why he was struggling so much with this thing was because he was having his own depressing thoughts and that was basically feeding the shadow and making it stronger. He’s feeding this dark thing inside himself. He hopes they don’t pick up on that, because he very much doesn’t want to talk about it.

“So, yeah, anyway, but what I did find out that’s more important is that it doesn’t just appear out of nowhere. Maybe it used to and that’s what a lot of Choctaws believes, but this one specifically is like, feeding off my magic right? Dark thoughts and magic combination, that stuff only makes it stronger. _But_! In order to get the thing to appear in an unnatural environment—that would be ours, for this thing—you have to invoke it by name via a ritual. Now, the Bestiary didn’t have the ritual or anything, but I figured that if magic helps make it stronger, then magic—”

“Must be what brought it here,” Deaton concludes. Stiles nods. “Hmm, yes, that makes sense. That means there’s a bond connecting the magic user and the shadow being.”

“And the Bestiary didn’t say how to kill it, at least nothing we found, but I was thinking that if there’s a bond between the shadow and the master, then if we take out the master—”

“You destroy the bond and the shadow being,” Talia finishes. She looks at Deaton. “How many magic users are in Beacon Hills at this moment, Stiles and his mother excluded?”

“Only the Emissaries, I think. Shall we call a meeting?”

“Yes, I think that’s a good idea.” Talia looks at Stiles. “We’re going to fix this, Stiles. We’ll find who did this.”

Stiles swallows and nods, clinging to his notebook. Derek steps closer to him, nudging their shoulders together. Stiles doesn’t look up at him, but he does welcome the touch.

It takes maybe thirty minutes for the Alphas and their Emissaries to arrive. Talia also calls the Stilinskis away from work and they both rush down. Peter has strolled into the room during all the waiting and has taken up residence by the fireplace in the leather armchairs. Talia gives him a long look before she continues on putting together preparations. Stiles stays firmly by Derek’s side the whole time, not really wanting to talk to anyone else, though he does hug both his parents when they arrive.

When everyone’s all joined together—and the Alphas look annoyed, all minus Satomi, who seems to always know what’s up—Talia claps her hands together, calling the attention of the room.

“I know you’re all wondering why I’ve brought you here now, especially considering we are currently on rocky terms over this trial.” She doesn’t necessarily give Deucalion a pointed look, but it’s pretty close to one. Stiles wonders how she remains so brazen despite all that’s happening, like she has absolutely no fear. Maybe that’s just what it means to be an Alpha though, especially a Great Alpha: always act like you know what you’re doing and the wolves won’t be able to touch you. He should probably apply that strategy to his life more.

“But now we must come together and discuss the future of the Pack. It appears we have a traitor in our midst.” Talia holds here for dramatic effect, and then Stiles realizes that she’s cataloguing the expressions and scents of everyone in the room. He notices himself that Ennis looks shifty and that Satomi’s Emissary presses her lips together tightly, like she’s refraining from saying something. “I want to ask each of your Emissaries a couple of questions. They should be harmless, if your Emissaries are innocent. This is about the shadow being and how it was conjured. We are led to believe that the shadow may only be raised by someone with magic.”

“And how exactly did you come to that information?” Deucalion asks, tilting his head to the side slightly. Not in confusion, but more like he’s punctuating his point.

“We found it in a bestiary,” Talia explains simply, not offering whose bestiary it is, though everyone can pretty much guess.

“Whose bestiary?” Peter asks from the armchair. He’s not even turned to face them, but rather instead facing a non-existent fire, staring into the phantom flames.

Talia purses her lips. “That’s not necessary. A friend supplied the information.” Both Deucalion and Peter make gestures of acknowledge, though they both seem heavily interested in why Talia had access to the Argent Bestiary. Talia clears her throat to command their attention again. “Now, I will interview your Emissaries.” She looks to the Alphas for their permission, but they’re pretty much backed into the wall here. If they don’t allow it, they seem highly guilty and then have Talia Hale breathing down their necks. If they do, and they are guilty, their Emissaries might give up information in fear. It’s a sticky spot to be stuck in.

But the Alphas all nod begrudgingly. Talia herself nods and then starts to go down the line in the order the Alphas are presented to her. Satomi is first, and her Emissary is a young woman who seems to be maybe a couple of years older than Stiles, but not by far. She’s beautiful, with a thin and delicate face, sharp features and slightly rounded cheeks. She seems polite, head slightly bowed when Talia steps in front of her, as a sign of respect, hands gathered in front of her with her fingers laced together. But she’s fidgeting with a silver ring on her middle finger, a clear tell that she’s slightly distressed in some way.

“Alpha Hale,” the Emissary greets, her platinum blonde bob falling slightly into her face, obscuring her silvery eyes. “It is an honor.”

Stiles realizes that this isn’t something an Emissary would normal say to the Great Alpha, if they’ve been coming here for years. This girl must be new to this all, or something like that. But Satomi must trust her if she’s her Emissary, so he decides it’s not really his place to question. Though he does have to wonder whether or not this is the first time they’ve met. It can’t be, because Stiles is pretty sure it’s customary to greet the Alpha when you first arrive, and that typically means with your second or Emissary or both. Maybe this Alya is just being super polite then.

“Alya, it’s always a pleasure.” Talia smiles kindly. “Did you perform the ritual that brought the shadow creature to our world?”

Alya seems to hesitate for a moment, but then she shakes her head. “No, Alpha, I did not.”

Talia stares at her, into her eyes, long enough that Alya starts to fidget, but then she nods and moves onto the next Emissary. Stiles doesn’t miss the way Alya glances at Satomi or how she desperately looks like she wants to say something. She even catches Stiles looking at her and raises her eyebrows slightly at him, but he doesn’t know what to make of that, so he looks away.

Talia stops in front of Ennis’ Emissary, an older man who seems not as chill as Deaton, but still quite relaxed and laid back. “Alpha,” he greets.

“Marcus, did you perform the ritual that brought the shadow creature to our world?”

Marcus doesn’t hesitate at all. “No, I did not.”

Talia nods and moves onto Kali’s Emissary, a slightly older woman with dark hair and a pretty face. She’s definitely younger than Talia, but older than Satomi’s Emissary. She meets Talia’s gaze evenly, but says nothing.

“Jennifer, did you perform the ritual that brought the shadow creature to our world?”

Jennifer smiles, almost sarcastically, and says, “No, I did not.”

Stiles can’t really explain it, but he feels a shiver go through him when she speaks. It’s almost like his body is trying to reject her words.

Talia pauses, giving Jennifer a once-over, and then she nods, moving onto the next person.

Stiles writes the experience off as weird and decides he’ll deal with it later.

The last Emissary is Deucalion’s, a woman with smooth skin and straight black hair. She looks probably slightly older than Jennifer, but not by much. She too seems sure of herself and meets Talia’s gaze.

“Alpha,” she says, unlike Jennifer. In fact, Jennifer was the only one who didn’t acknowledge Talia’s position. Stiles marks that in the ‘weird’ column as well.

“Marin,” Talia smiles, like she’s talking to an old friend, “did you perform the ritual that brought the shadow creature to our world?”

Marin smiles back just as kind, but there’s something almost strained behind it, like she’s forcing herself to be polite right now. Stiles finds that weird, too. “No, I did not.”

Talia gives her another look before nodding and moving back to the desk. Stiles notices Deaton’s watching Marin and Marin seems to be pointedly ignoring him.

“That is all I needed,” Talia declares, even though they didn’t really get anything. Peter tsks.

“Ah, but, sister, you didn’t even question your own Emissary,” he points out, ever helpful.

Talia gives him a look of disbelief and Stiles himself wants to ask what side Peter is on, though he realizes that Peter is probably only on his own side, like always.

“I hardly believe that’s necessary—” she starts, but Deucalion cuts her off.

“Your brother is right. It is only fair, after all.”

“It’s fine, Talia. You know I have nothing to hide,” Deaton tells her. She nods.

“Alright. Alan, did you perform the ritual to bring the shadow creature to our world?”

It’s quiet for a moment while everyone watches with bated breath. Surely it wasn’t Deaton, right? That would make absolutely no sense. Why would he summon the nalusa chito? What would he even gain from that? He’s the one that’s been trying to teach Stiles about the spark anyway, so why would he do all of that? Just so he can, what, see the spark in action? No, none of that makes sense. It’s not him. If it’s not him, then why isn’t he answering? Stiles is kind of starting to freak out.

“No,” Deaton finally says after the longest almost minute of Stiles’ life. “I did not.”

Talia breathes a barely noticeable sigh of relief and nods. Deucalion, however, seems unsatisfied.

“That was quite a long pause,” he admonishes. “Almost like he’s hiding something.”

“You heard his heartbeat same as I, Deucalion.”

“Emissaries are known to control their emotions around Alphas.”

“Are you suggesting that your Emissary, or any of the Emissaries I just spoke to, lied to me?”

Deucalion smiles. “No, of course not. I think they would find it impossible to lie to you, my dear Alpha.”

Talia flexes her hands like she’s wishing she had claws right now, but she doesn’t get mad. Instead, she nods and jerks her head toward the door. “Everyone is dismissed. Thank you for your participation.”

The Alphas and Emissaries file out of the room in silence. When they leave, Deaton closes the door. Stiles’ parents head over to talk to Red and Talia and Deaton, looking a little concerned about the whole series of events that just took place.

From an outsider’s perspective, it looks like they just got nowhere and with no new information. Stiles can see where his parents would be worried. But he got to see the Emissaries and now he knows that he needs to talk to Satomi’s Emissary, because she definitely has something to hide. There’s also a clear relationship between Marin and Deaton that Stiles kind of wants to discover and Jennifer literally gave him like weird tingly shivers just by talking, so there’s got to be something up with that, something with the way she spoke to Talia. He has nothing to say about Marcus, though, Ennis’ Emissary, and he doesn’t know if that’s good or bad.

He’s mulling this over when Peter appears in front of him, and Stiles startles back a little, knocking into Derek. Peter gives him a thin smile.

“I believe I need to speak with you, Stiles. It’s quite urgent,” he says calmly.

“Now?”

“No, but soon, and away from prying ears.”

“That’s not—” Derek starts to say, but Stiles cuts him off.

“No, no, it’s okay. I think we need to talk, too.”

Peter looks delighted, like he’s just stolen candy from a baby. “I’ll text you when we can meet. Oh, and remember: ‘False face must hide what false heart doth know.’”

With that, Peter turns and leaves the room. Stiles stares after him.

“Was that—” Derek starts.

“Macbeth, yeah.” He furrows his brows. “And I think it means that Peter knows something he’s not telling us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we finally--finally, i know--learned exactly what the nalusa chito is, more or less, and where it comes from! so it is from choctaw mythology, but the part about magic strengthening it is something I added for the story. There's actually not a ton of mythology on it, that I could find, but i really liked it because it's basically a shadow person, which is what i wanted to play with
> 
> fermat's last theorem is like the most popular, complex theorem i could find. i know nothing about math, but i read that it was hard and although it was conjectured in like the 1600s, it took 300 years for the first proof to come out. naturally, lydia knows the theorem well, and stiles isn't much of a math person, but if he was pressed, he could easily debate it with her, though they'd probably end up agreeing
> 
> also, i think you can tell, i'm trying to keep with the show's canon as much as i can while adding in my own personal headcanons and beliefs and take on the mythology, so if you need any clarification, just let me know!
> 
> i also over-use macbeth in this. i know, i'm well aware, i do apologize, but there's a reason for that, which i think some of you may have possibly figured out by now, especially if you know macbeth. (i've actually never read the play, just read excerpts and quotes and dissected their meaning via the internet and what i can piece together in my own brain, but i hope that doesn't show too much lmao)
> 
> and there isn't like any examples in this chapter, but i figured i'd say this first so that when it pops up you know. stiles has adhd, right, and so do i and so does my best friend, and there's like two distinct types of adhd where either you're very hyperactive and constantly moving or you space out a lot and have a lot of trouble concentrating (there's also mixtures of the two types, but i'm simplifying it for simplicity's sake). i have the trouble concentrating more especially while my best friend has the hyperactivity more, and i wanted stiles to have hyperactivity more, but still with concentration problems, just not as severe as his hyperactivity issues. but a lot of his behaviors as reminiscent of her and our experiences together. also, she has one of the best memories i've ever seen, which is exactly how i think stiles is--incredibly, incredibly smart and with a penchant for memorizing things, just a bit too hyperactive and with concentration issues. anyway, that's my rant, sorry it's so big lmao


	10. you're the pull of the moon on the tides

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Uh, can I hug you?"
> 
> Stiles continues to stare at Derek, unsure he heard him right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is long, i'm sorry, i couldn't find a good place to cut it and this was the best i could do, i'm sorry (unless you're into the length, then you're absolutely welcome)
> 
> chapter title comes from "under the stars" by aquamarine, which is a super underrated song that i absolutely love, i feel like nobody knows it

A couple days pass without any incidents, thank God. Stiles keeps sleeping with the moonstone under his pillow and then keeping it in his pocket at all times. He doesn’t necessarily feel safe without it. He’s been practicing the whole magic thing whenever he gets a chance and he’s not necessarily getting better, but he’s not getting worse, so there’s that. His mom and Deaton both say that he’s acting like there’s something blocking him, like he’s not fully there. Stiles doesn’t really know how to fix it or get around it, but they keep trying anyway.

Lydia’s supposed to go over to the Hales on Saturday with her mom, but Stiles can tell that pisses her off, because now she knows that her mom knows something and has known something this entire time and isn’t telling her. Stiles imagines he’d be frustrated, too, so he tries to be there when Lydia wants to complain to someone other than Allison, and he never blames her. Just tries to answer what he can as honestly as he can and still be supportive.

It’s weird that now, suddenly, the only people who don’t know about the supernatural in their friend group is Danny, Isaac, and Jackson, but Stiles kinda doesn’t doubt it won’t be long before those three find out, too. That seems to be the way things work around here.

On Friday, Stiles gets up and heads to school a little earlier than usual, opting to wait by his locker for one of his friends to find him. He’s doing just this when he spots Kira all by herself, without Malia or anyone. He calls her over.

“Hey, Kira!” He greets. She grins at him.

“Hi, Stiles, how are you?”

“As good as I can be considering.” Kira makes a face like she’s sorry for asking, but Stiles waves it away. “It’s fine. Everything’s somewhat fine right now. Other than the attempted murder, how are you liking Beacon Hills?”

Kira laughs and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I actually really love it. My parents are pretty sure we’re moving here. It’s where all the action is, anyway.” Kira playfully elbows Stiles and he laughs.

“That’s true. Hey, how’s Satomi holding up? Is she still okay? We’ve spoken a little, but I’m sure you know her better than I do.”

Kira nods. “Yeah, I mean… She’s tough, you know? She hardly ever lets anything get to her. My mom’s known her a really long time, like a _really long_ time, and she says that Satomi will pull through this, like she always does. I mean, this might be like blasphemous to say, but even if we change packs, Satomi will always be my Alpha, y’know? I’ll always look up to her like that.”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, I get that. I mean, I can’t imagine not being in the Hale pack, but if I ever did move for some reason or something, Talia would always be my Alpha and my second mom. I guess that’s what they mean when they say pack is family, right?”

“You know, we’re lucky to be different. I mean, we don’t have to abide by the same rules that the wolves do. Kitsune and sparks don’t have packs, they choose them. We’re lucky we get to choose ours. I can’t imagine being born into a pack like Kali’s or—or Deucalion’s? That would be awful.”

Stiles hums. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Hey, how do you know about sparks anyway?”

Kira smiles brightly. “Oh, Satomi tells us about every supernatural being she’s ever come in contact with. She said sparks were the most magical of all—pun intended.” Stiles snorts. “Sparks are really rare, apparently, and it’s rare for multiple to exist at one time, you know, like in a family? But your spark, and your mom’s spark, they’re unlike anything Satomi’s ever seen before. She said that she’s not surprised it took so long for your spark to manifest, but that now that it has, it’s going to help you and the Pack in so many ways. She thinks you and your mom are going to help a lot of people, emphasis on you.”

Stiles can’t fight the blush that rises to his cheeks. “She really thinks that?”

“Yeah, she does, Stiles. It doesn’t surprise me much, though. I mean, I’ve only known you for a few weeks, but you’re one of the strongest and smartest people I’ve ever met. You and Derek are going to change a lot of things together, I can see it now.”

Stiles buries his face in his hands because it’s burning very badly and he doesn’t want to make eye contact with Kira. He’s incredibly grateful the hallways are still very much empty.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. She laughs warmly and wraps her arms around him, resting her head on his bicep.

“You’re funny,” she says, in the way someone would say, “You’re odd,” but he knows she doesn’t mean it like that. He removes his face from his hands so he can engulf her in a proper hug.

“You know, you’re not so bad yourself,” he mumbles.

They hug for a few moments before Stiles finally clears his throat and sheepishly moves away. He rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

“So, uh, what else has been going on? Anything with you and Malia, or…?”

Kira blushes and gently bats at him. “Shut up. That’s not—we’re not—”

“Oh, yeah, sure, sure,” he teases. Kira gives her best attempt at a glare, but it’s too adorable and has no real bite behind it.

“Oh, and you and Derek—”

“Okay, okay!” Stiles makes a flailing attempt to cover her mouth, but Kira expertly dodges out of his way, giggling as she does. He straightens himself and his shirt, clearing his throat like he didn’t just look like a total dork.

“Serves you right,” Kira chides, poking him in the stomach. He laughs and bats her hand away.

“But, really, anything else going in Beacon Hills? Anything you’ve found that you’re like, _Huh, this is bizarre_.”

“Well…” Kira looks down at her sneakers like she’s nervous. “There is one thing.” Stiles makes a motion for her to go on and she nods. “It’s just… Deucalion keeps coming up to my mom and asking her to like, come see what his pack is like. It’s really weird actually. He keeps talking about how special kitsune are and how it’s very intriguing how Mom and I are different types and that sort of thing. He almost talks about us like—” She stops herself.

“Like what?” Stiles asks slowly, feeling nervous himself. Or maybe it’s just her nervous energy that he’s feeding off of, but it doesn’t feel good.

“Like we’re something to collect, you know? Like we’re not people, but objects. It’s just—weird. It’s really weird. It doesn’t feel… Right. You know?”

Stiles nods. “Yeah, no, that’s definitely weird. Have you talked to Talia about it?”

Kira shakes her head. “No, Mom says it’s nothing to worry about, but it doesn’t feel like nothing. I get all unsettled around him. And staticky, which I only get when I’m like angry or distressed. But I’m trying not to make a big deal out of it.”

Stiles hums, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, maybe we don’t need to make a big deal of it now, but if it keeps happening or something, we should definitely tell Talia. I’m not sure what she can do, but she can at least offer you protection within our pack.”

Kira nods slowly and then gains momentum like she’s worked herself up to the idea. “Yeah, no, that’s a good idea. We should just do that.” She meets Stiles’ eyes. “Thanks, Stiles. That really means a lot.”

“Of course, Kira. You’re pack now, _and_ we’re friends. I’ve got your back.” He slings an arm around her shoulder for a sideways hug, which she laughs and leans into, latching onto him.

Their friends start coming up not ten minutes after that and the issue gets pushed to the side to make way for Scott’s newest video game which you just totally have to play, Stiles, just wait until you see it! The Wonder Triplets slink over at start up a conversation with the Hales when they arrive, and Malia immediately comes over to talk to Kira, and Stiles totally shoots Kira suggestive eyebrows when it happens, making Kira laugh so loudly that it draws everyone’s attention to her. Stiles quickly makes a diversion by asking Theo about what they did in Spanish yesterday because he totally zoned out and was thinking of how to tell someone that their fly is down in Spanish, because he totally could’ve used that on their teacher, and Kira silently mouths thank you at him when they meet eyes. Allison comes up with Lydia and they start a conversation with Erica and Cora about dresses for the Spring Fling that Stiles didn’t realize anyone was going to attend, and Derek sidles up next to him without saying anything, just wanting to be closer it appears. Jackson and Danny join them and Stiles takes a minute to realize that he’s pretty sure the two of them were holding hands when they just strolled up, and he tugs on Derek’s shirt to whisper his realization back to him. Derek chuckles and says, “About time,” and carries on with his ignoring everyone.

Stiles also realizes that, in times like these, he’s desperately grateful for his pack and the people that have been given to him, even if some of them are total assholes. Because everything’s kind of shitty right now or, like, a dumpster on fire, but it doesn’t even matter because he’s got the best people he could possibly ask for with him.

It makes everything seem like it’s going to be okay, and Stiles realizes that maybe it will be.

+++

Derek decides to invite himself back to Stiles’ house, which Stiles wants to protest against, but, for once in his life, doesn’t necessarily feel like arguing. His mom’s still in class with the cretins and Dad’s at the station, so it’s just them alone. Which is fine. Stiles is trying to become used to that. It’s never something they had before, not in this capacity, but maybe they’re different now than they were before and maybe that’s okay.

Stiles hates change. A lot. So, actually, this is pretty hard for him and probably will always be hard for him unless it becomes normal, but for now, he still doesn’t like that Derek is all clingy. But maybe Derek sometimes needs to be clingy and Stiles needs to let him, because it’s not always about him and his emotions, right?

Right… Whatever. Anyway.

Stiles kicks off his shoes by the front door and throws his stuff on the couch, vowing to definitely come collect it later. For now, though, he just wants something to eat and to sit down and close his eyes for at least fifteen minutes straight.

Derek shuffles in behind him and copies his movements, though he’s much more careful about toeing off his shoes and gently setting his backpack down against the back of the couch. He’s always like that: the calm to Stiles’ storm, the clean to Stiles’ mess. They’ve always been polar opposites, the Law of Polarity and all that. Maybe that’s why Stiles is convinced that he and Derek could never actually work out, because everything has an equal or an exact opposite, and he’s clearly not Derek’s equal so they must be exact opposites.

But now the more time he spends with Derek, he realizes that they’re actually pretty similar in a lot of ways. Both are unendingly loyal, both are pretty intelligent, they like a lot of the same things and like debating when they don’t like something similar. Which of course leads him to remember the Law of Attraction and Vibration, like attracts like, and that’s a whole spiral of thinking he doesn’t ever want to get into so he just doesn’t.

Stiles shakes himself and continues to the kitchen, hoping Derek didn’t see him stop in his tracks like a weirdo. He starts making pizza bagels because he knows Derek will devour those things like a human vacuum, and turns on the little yellow radio in the kitchen so the house doesn’t feel so empty.

“Kira told me an interesting thing, you know,” Stiles says, because he’s never been good at keeping the silence. He glances over his shoulder and sees Derek sitting on the couch, some book in his hands, but he’s looking toward Stiles in a way that suggests he’s clearly heard him.

“Yeah?” Derek says after a moment, to get Stiles to keep talking. Stiles turns so that he’s leaning against the counter and facing the archway, so that he’s facing Derek. They stare at each other.

“Yeah, so, she said that Deucalion was like telling her and her mom that it would be a treat if they were in his pack, and that he was treating them like they were collectables, you know? Like he was the—” Stiles waves his hand around. “Al the Toy Collector or something. She said it was really freaking her out, but her mom said that it wasn’t something to worry about.”

Derek hums, turning his head a little and staring off into the distance, like he’s thinking. He’s very beautiful. Stiles realizes that again every time he sees him, but Derek is a very beautiful person. He’s already got like a full beard of stubble, even though they’re only sixteen and seventeen and that shouldn’t really been happening yet—Stiles blames the lycanthropy—and these crazy eyes that are like eighteen different colors, but the closest Stiles can get, and what it says on Derek’s driver’s license, is hazel. He’s got smooth tanned skin, a jawline some people would straight up murder for—Stiles probably being one of them—and the perfect amount of soft black hair. He’s so gorgeous and drool-worthy that it brings Stiles back to the Law of Polarity. There’s absolutely no way he’s Derek’s equal, not when Derek looks like _that_. Maybe his equal is snark, but that’s about it. Derek will always be humbly superior to him.

“That doesn’t surprise me, you know,” Derek is saying. Stiles tries to focus on him. “I mean, I know he’s got this other Alpha in his pack.”

“Well, yeah, but Peter’s an Alpha in your mom’s pack.”

Derek shakes his head. “No, they’re twins. There’s two of them. Ethan and Aiden, I think. They’re supposed to be down here, but maybe they got caught up with something, I don’t know. I mean, I know they submit to Deucalion the same way Peter submits to my mom, but Alpha twins are like… Those don’t happen, at least, not that I’ve heard. They’re a rarity, special, which is the whole reason why Deucalion has them in his pack, I think.”

“Wait, so, ew, he really collects things? Like a serial killer or something, but with supernatural beings. Why would he do that?”

“It’s just a rumor. No one can actually prove anything, but what I do know is that he has the twins and he’s constantly looking for talented supernatural beings. And the way he opposes my mom leads me to think that maybe he’s sick of being stuck so far north. Maybe he’s looking to relocate.”

Stiles hums and a second later the oven dings. He sets to taking the pizza bagels out of the oven.

“So you really do think he’s coming for your mom’s territory?”

“It makes sense. And the fact that there’s proof that he’s asking after other supernatural beings now is a little suspicious to me. I don’t know if he or his Emissary performed the ritual or bit Scott, but something doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Yeah, speaking of, does Marin know Deaton at all?” Stiles arranges the still hot bagels on a plate and carries them into the living room, setting them down on the coffee table in front of the couch. “I was getting some weird vibes from them.”

“Morrell, you mean?” Derek asks. Stiles shrugs at him. “Marin Morrell is her full name. She’s Deaton’s sister, though I don’t know how closely they’re actually related, but they’re both druids.”

“Ohhhh, yeah, he told me his sister is a druid. Wow, I just didn’t piece it together that it’s Marin. Or Morrell, whatever. They look nothing alike.”

“And from my understanding, they act nothing alike either. Deaton is all about keeping the peace and helping people when he can, but Morrell is obsessed with keeping natural balance. She’s more of a druid than he is. Like the kind that wears robes and sacrifices little animals on altars.”

“Ewww, no way. Does she actually do that?” Stiles takes a seat next to Derek, crossing his legs and bumping his knee into Derek’s thigh on accident, though Derek doesn’t seem to notice or mind.

“That’s what ancient druids would do. Morrell’s all old school: chanting, rituals, sacred altars. She’ll do anything to keep the balance, and Deaton’s had to, several times before, stop her from going too far. I’m not so sure it’s a good idea that she’s allied with Deucalion right now, but Deaton hasn’t tried to stop her yet, so maybe it’s okay.”

Stiles feels like that’s a naïve thought, but he can’t really offer anything else. If Morrell is going to be a problem, Deaton will help take care of her. That seems to be all they can do about that for now.

“What about the other Emissaries? Do you know them?” Stiles asks, picking up a pizza bagel. Derek shrugs.

“Not really. I’ve never met Ennis’ Emissary, but he smelled harmless. Satomi’s Emissary seems sweet, but she did smell really nervous. And Kali’s Emissary Jennifer… She seems familiar, but I can’t place where or why. But, again, I didn’t really pick up anything from her. Maybe my mom did better with her Alpha nose but—”

“I picked up something from Jennifer,” Stiles admits, picking at the bagel in his hand. “It was like… It was like a vibration almost. Like I got all tingly and shivers, but it felt almost like the air was vibrating differently. Like… Like whatever she said, my body didn’t like. It was weird.”

Derek stares at him. “Maybe that’s your spark telling you something.”

Stiles looks over at him. “You think?”

“Sure,” Derek shrugs, though he seems a little cautious. “Maybe it was trying to give you a signal or warn you. Maybe we should take a closer look at Jennifer.”

Stiles can’t help but laugh. “You speak like we’re gonna be on the case, like we’re Scooby-Doo or something. Dibs on being Velma!”

“You’re Shaggy, who are you kidding?”

Stiles scoffs and hits Derek’s bicep. “Well—you’re Fred!”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Obviously,” he says, and grabs the whole plate of pizza bagels.

“You know, a lot of people have speculated Fred and Shaggy were in a homosexual relationship,” Stiles says without really meaning to and not knowing why he said it.

“That’s interesting,” Derek says, giving Stiles a pointed look, before turning back to his pizza bagels. Stiles stares at him for a moment before deciding not to ask and tries to sneak a couple bagels for himself.

+++

They’ve migrated up to Stiles’ bedroom and are hanging out when Stiles’ phone goes off. Derek’s laying on his bed, propped up against the headboard and reading whatever book he’s been reading, while Stiles is sitting in his desk chair, laptop in his lap and socked feet on his mattress. They’ve been there for a few hours now, and both of Stiles’ parents are downstairs and moving around. Claudia will probably start dinner soon, if she hasn’t started it already, which Stiles is sure Derek is going to stay for.

He checks his phone. It’s from Peter.

GM

_Meet me in the woods after dusk._

Of course, Peter couldn’t just send a normal text to Stiles or, like, call him on the phone or anything. He just _had_ to be weird about it. Stiles sighs and replies:

_Where exactly in the woods? I can try after dinner._

GM

_I’ll find you. :)_

Yeah, like that isn’t creepy. Stiles scoffs and doesn’t even bother replying.

When Claudia does call them down to dinner, Stiles almost has to bodily haul Derek away from his book, but then Derek catches a whiff of the food and drops it without thinking twice.

Their table is small, so Stiles and Derek sit across from each other with Claudia and John on either side of them. Stiles decides that this is infinitely worse because he has to look at Derek’s face the whole time while he’s eating, and longs for the huge dining table that the Hales have that easily sits 20+ people.

“So, boys, how was school?” John asks, smiling into his cup like he’s not the worst dad in the world. Claudia’s grinning on the other side and Stiles barely holds back his groan of displeasure. He would really rather be at the Hales right now.

“It was fine,” Derek says, never a man of many words unless he’s talking about Pack things to Stiles, it seems.

“Yeah, nothing to report,” Stiles chirps up, giving his mother a pointed look. She smiles cheekily around her forkful of mashed potatoes. God, this is where he gets his weirdness from.

“No new interesting developments? Lacrosse going okay for you, Derek?” John asks. He knows that Stiles has pretty much continued to stay away from lacrosse at all times like it’s the plague, but Derek has been occasionally playing. Finstock must know about their bond by now though; Stiles doesn’t know how else Derek would be able to get out of playing.

“Lacrosse is good. Haven’t been there much,” he admits. Claudia raises an eyebrow.

“Oh? Why not?”

_Don’t say it, don’t you say it, don’t you dare—_

“Stiles hasn’t been there.”

And he said it.

Stiles purposely and loudly drops an elbow onto the table before dropping his face into his open and waiting palm. This is really what he needs right now, really.

“Oh?” Claudia’s voice lilts up so much that there’s no covering up that untamable joy. Clearly she’s not trying anyway. “That’s nice of you.”

“That’s what a good mate does,” John adds chipperly. Stiles wants to saw his own body in half so he doesn’t have to deal with this conversation.

“Okay, that’s—thank you for that, Dad,” he says, not lifting his face up. Forks are still scraping plates so he assumes that everyone’s just ignoring his antics, which works just fine for him.

Thankfully, Claudia takes pity on him and starts asking Derek about how the pack is doing and how everything is going with Scott’s transition into it. Derek answers with more words than he usually does, which pleases Stiles’ parents, so it’s a win-win for everyone. Except Stiles, of course, who is still deeply embarrassed, but that’s beside the point.

After dinner, Derek offers to stay and help clear up, but Claudia shoos him off to go talk to John in the living room and forces Stiles to stay and help her.

“What was all that about?” she asks in Polish, because she’s an angel in heaven when it counts. She obviously knows about Derek’s werewolf hearing and Derek doesn’t, thankfully, know Polish, so this is the only way she can grill her son when Derek is so close without him hearing. She passes him a plate to dry.

“Nothing, nothing,” he assures her, still in Polish. “I just—I don’t wanna put all that bond stuff on him all the time, you know? Like it’s hard for him to do literally anything out of his shell, I don’t want to suddenly force him to bond with me because of our bond.”

“You wouldn’t be forcing him, _kochanie_. He would do it because he wants to.”

Stiles waves his hands about, nearly dropping the plate. He sets it down and takes the next one she offers. “But that’s the thing, is that he wouldn’t want to—”

“ _Stiles_ —”

“—which is fine!” Stiles’ volume and speed increases without him meaning to. “Really! I’m comfortable dealing with everything how it is. I _like_ it how it is and I don’t wanna mess that up, okay? Maybe it’ll all be different when we’re seniors or whatever, but for now, it’s fine. Please, just… Leave it, okay?”

Claudia presses her lips together to stop from saying something and is quiet for a couple minutes. They keep doing the dishes in that silence. Stiles hears John and Derek talking lowly in the living room about football, either unaware of Stiles’ little outburst—unlikely—or just ignoring it to be polite—which is probably exactly the case. Derek can’t understand them—though Stiles wouldn’t be adverse to teaching him or something, it actually would make Derek a whole helluva lot hotter if he spoke Polish with Stiles and his family, and that thought is enough to shut down the whole idea train to begin with—but John can, and John wouldn’t purposely draw attention to Stiles freaking out.

“I want you to be happy, _kochanie_ ,” Claudia murmurs. Stiles rubs the towel over the glass in his hand.

“I am,” he says, and it’s mostly true anyway. There’s obviously a couple discrepancies about near-murder, but he feels like that’s forgivable. “I am, _mamo_. Just let me deal with this on my own.”

“Okay, fine,” she says in English, and leans over to kiss his cheek, since he’s just barely too tall for her to kiss his head anymore.

They finish up the dishes in silence and return to the living room to all sit together for a bit. Stiles keeps glancing at the time on his phone as they watch tv together and he lets it get to 8 o’clock before he announces that it’s time for Derek to leave. Derek looks slightly confused but agrees with him. Stiles volunteers to go get his stuff from upstairs.

He jogs upstairs and grabs Derek’s bag and is going to grab the book he was reading earlier when he actually sees what it is. _Macbeth_ by Shakespeare, which Stiles knows Derek has read it before and assumes he’s only reading it again because of what Peter said. He pulls a pen out of his desk drawer and writes in the margins on Derek’s bookmarked page: “The key to a healthy marriage is mutually-beneficial murder!” Then he throws the book in the bottom of Derek’s backpack and heads back downstairs.

He tries handing Derek his backpack and shooing him out the door, but Derek turns to Stiles and says, “Walk me out?” and Stiles’ heart just freaking melts at the softness of the words, the little lilt in Derek’s tone like he’s hopeful. Stiles swallows and nods and follows Derek out the door and to the Camaro.

They stand there in silence for a minute while Derek fiddles with his keys and Stiles scuffs the driveway with his sneakers. Then, Derek says, “You’re okay, right? I mean, I don’t know what you and your mom were talking about, but you seemed distressed, you _smelled_ distressed. Are you—is everything okay?”

Stiles crosses his arms over his chest defensively before he can stop himself. The gesture doesn’t go unnoticed by Derek, but he doesn’t outright say anything, which Stiles is grateful for.

“Yeah, no, I’m good, we’re all good. Everything is fine, I mean, just a healthy discussion in our mother tongue, y’know? It’s all good in the hood.” Stiles rocks back on his heels, trying to convey nonchalant, but he’s positive he’s missing it by a mile.

Derek stares at him for a long, uncomfortable moment before nodding his head and clearing his throat. His cheeks are a little tinted pink and he seems almost… Shy. Stiles wonders what the hell all that is about, but decides he doesn’t want to find out.

“Uh, okay,” he says, clapping his hands together. “I’m gonna head back inside, I’ll see you tomorrow or something.”

Stiles goes to turn, but Derek’s hand shoots out and grabs gently onto his forearm—the uninjured one, though the one with the scratches is looking much better and a lot less like Cara Delevingne’s portrayal of Enchantress’ skin, only ashy on one little part now, the rest all cleared up. His face is all but cleared up too, finally, though sometimes when he turns in the mirror, he feels like he can still see the faint outlines of the scratches and scrapes.

Stiles stares up at Derek, who opens and closes his mouth a time or two before seemingly finding the right words.

“Uh, can I hug you?”

Stiles continues to stare at Derek, unsure if he heard him right. Hug him? Well, sure, they’ve hugged before—these past few weeks have definitely been the most amount of times they’ve ever touched each other, let alone hugged—but Derek is the kind of guy that takes what he wants. Not in like a creepy way, but more of a confident and slightly assertive yet respectful way. If he wants to hug Stiles, then he would just hug Stiles and not give a shit what Stiles thought. But now he’s asking for permission? And tentatively at that, like he’s worried that Stiles is going to reject him. Stiles doesn’t understand it at all.

“Uh, sure?”

Derek seems to not care about the hesitance in Stiles’ agreement and instead moves into his space with that same careful confidence that he almost always has. His hands dip to wrap around Stiles’ waist, and so Stiles runs his along Derek’s arms up to his shoulders. Derek stares at his face the whole time, eyes staring directly into Stiles’, like he’s looking for something. Stiles isn’t sure if he finds it, but then Derek is pulling Stiles flush against him—like flush against him, Stiles can feel something rectangular in Derek’s pocket that he’s pretty sure is his phone and is dying to make a joke about, but can’t bring himself to do it when there’s all this weird charged air around what they’re doing right now.

Stiles definitely does _not_ make a noise when Derek pulls them together, their noses almost bumping together. Stiles finds it near impossible to not look at Derek’s lips when they’re like this, almost as impossible as not looking in Derek’s eyes. And Derek, the bastard, isn’t breaking eye contact, like this is nothing out of the ordinary, like he isn’t shattering Stiles’ world by the proximity and intensity of his presence and touch.

The air around them is electric. Stiles can almost taste it and he doesn’t know if that’s normal or if that’s because of his spark, but it’s kinda hard to figure all that out when Derek Hale’s nose is softly bumping into his.

Stiles starts to say Derek’s name when Derek suddenly moves forward, brushing his cheek against Stiles’, the stubble scraping ever so gently against Stiles’ skin, and then burying his face into Stiles’ neck. Stiles feels his heart pounding rapidly and feels like he should ask what the hell just happened, but he’s having a really hard time opening his mouth right now.

He brings one of his hands further up to clutch at the back of Derek’s neck, holding him in place. Derek’s fingers tighten in his shirt. Stiles will allow himself this, if Derek’s gonna offer it so freely and gently like he just has. The least Stiles can do is hold onto him, give him whatever he needs and greedily take what he needs in return.

They don’t let go of each other for a long while, Derek taking gulps of his scent and rubbing his nose down the tendon in Stiles’ neck the way a lover might. It’s too much and not enough all at once, so he allows it for as long as he can before he starts to freak out and releases Derek from where he’s been lightly running his fingers through the hair at the base of Derek’s neck, which earned him little rumbling noises out of Derek, which in turn sent sparks of electricity through Stiles and down below, which he had to think about his parents having sex and Coach Finstock and Coach Finstock having sex, in order to calm himself down. He’s starting to go crazy.

He pulls back as much as he can in the tight little circle that Derek has him trapped in, clearing his throat. Derek, after a moment, reluctantly lifts his face out of Stiles’ neck and looks up at him. It sends a punch to Stiles’ gut.

Derek looks completely scent-drunk, which is what Laura always calls it. His eyes are half-lidded and a bit unfocused, face slack like he’s completely relaxed and blissed out. Stiles has never seen him look like this _ever_ and they’ve pretty much known each other their whole lives. And _he did that_ , which is absolutely crazy. It still surprises Stiles that though there’s not much for him to give Derek, he can at least give him his scent, which is the one thing Derek seems to truly like about Stiles.

Derek slowly releases Stiles, taking a step back and opening his fingers to remove his tight grip in the back of Stiles’ shirt. Stiles decides he’s very flattered by this odd turn of events if anything. He definitely is going to tease Derek about this later on, maybe when they’re not so close together like they still kinda are.

Stiles lightly clears his throat again and takes another half-step back, just to make sure there’s a comfortable distance between them. His heart hasn’t stopped pounding and he needs to go chill the fuck out before he meets Peter in the woods, because that’s its own thing and he doesn’t wanna show up reeking of Derek and probably arousal. It’s embarrassing enough standing in front of Derek like this, Peter would just be too much. He just prays Derek is too out of it to scent him anymore right now.

“Um…” Stiles tugs his shirt back into place. “So, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

Derek seems to be unable to speak, but he nods dazedly. Stiles wonders if it’s really a good idea to like, let him drive right now.

“Are you… Good?” He asks. Derek stares at him for a moment before nodding.

“Yeah.” His voice kind of cracks and he takes a second to clear it. Then he nods again. “Yeah, no, I’ll be… That was…” He shakes his head, mostly to himself, it seems. “I’ll be fine. I’ll, um, see you tomorrow.”

The blush is back high on his cheeks and Stiles can’t help but think how pretty it is before he forces himself to look away.

“Right, yup, tomorrow. Sounds good. Sleep tight!” Stiles doesn’t look back at Derek as he jogs back to the house and up the steps, not even turning to wave as he ducks into the house. He shuts the door and leans against it, trying to calm down his heartbeat.

“Everything okay?” His dad asks with a hint of a sarcastic, teasing note in his voice. He hears his mom stifle a giggle.

“I hate you both,” Stiles groans and darts up the stairs. “I’m going to bed! Leave me alone to drown in my teenage angst!”

He prays they listen and ducks into his room, closing the door behind him. He slips on his shoes and a jacket, double checking that he has his moonstone just in case shit hits the fan, though he doesn’t know what real good it’s going to do for him. He waits forty-five minutes until he hears two sets of footsteps on the stairs, his mother giggling while his father tells her something with a chuckle.

Stiles is glad that he doesn’t have super hearing, because if they were talking about him, he would absolutely die and be pissed, and if it was in anyway sexual, like about their sex life—because his parents are slightly older but not dead, they still have sex and are proud of it, much to Stiles’ bereavement, especially when they try to normalize it in front of him—he would also die and be mortified, so really, super hearing just seems like a lose-lose. That’s probably why the Hales soundproof so many rooms of their house.

When their bedroom door shuts, Stiles gives it another three minutes before opening his door and ducking out into the hallway. He makes it downstairs and out the back door with his parents being none the wiser. He considers texting Peter as he makes his way into the woods behind his house, but decides that Peter’s probably lurking around here somewhere anyway.

The weirdo will find him soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much information, here we go: so stiles talks to kira and hears that deucalion's a weirdo, but we all knew that. derek and stiles have chats which we love to hear them talk, at least i love to write the dialogue for it, and there's slight subtext so that's a nice cherry on top.
> 
> peter is GM in stiles' phone because that means grandmaster, like in chess
> 
> stiles just did a unit on the seven laws of nature or read a wikipedia entry or something, that's why he's stuck on them and keeps referencing them lmao
> 
> and i'm sorry about the defacing books thing, but i personally write notes in the margins of my books and whatever and i feel like stiles would do exactly the same
> 
> and, side note, i'm sorry if stiles is frustrating as a character, i just feel like he'd have a lot of self-doubt that he's accumulated over the years that derek hasn't particularly helped with and therefore he constantly doubts himself especially when it comes to derek and mate-related things. also, he's an awkward teenager, so he's not gonna naturally have all this self-confidence, though he will fake it for sure. he also makes a lot of dumb decisions because again, he's young, and he doesn't really think things through, no matter how much of a genius he really is
> 
> and i think that's all i have for this chapter! next one we get peter and stiles talking which was a really fun experience to write and i'm excited for you all to read that! also, i'm so close to the end of the story! i have to finish tying up my loose ends and write that out and then the big scene, which i've half written and then i think i'm done! i'm also trying to transcribe all my written chapters into my computer in order to get a set chapter count for you guys, but i think i may put up like 25 chapters and then just change it if i need to. we're also at 71k already and i haven't finished transcribing the chapters or the actual story itself so who knows how long this is going to be *sweating emoji* but it's fine haha


	11. because you're mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What the fuck, villain?" Stiles demands, because that was totally a bad guy movie scene right there, he's sure he's seen it before. Peter raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> buckle up for the longest saturday of your lives (jk, it's not that long, but we still have like two or three chapters of this specific saturday, why did i make it so long? not to mention what comes after (this is where i'd put a smiling devil emoji if i knew how))
> 
> chapter title comes from "i walk the line" by johnny cash
> 
> (also, again on the chapter count, as i'm transcribing, i'm already to 18 chapters in total, and i still have quite a few more chapters to cut up and transcribe, so i'm definitely probably going over 20 and to the 30s. lmao i wish i had a better counter, but i don't right now, but i'm gonna try to rework everything and throw at least some type of number up there)

It doesn’t take long for Peter to find him, maybe 10 minutes of Stiles hating his life and himself and then suddenly Peter is walking out of the mist and stepping into Stiles’ line of sight and had Stiles actually been able to use his spark, Peter would so be toast right now, but since he can’t, Peter just gets Stiles gasping loudly and clutching at his chest as he tries to catch his breath.

"What the _fuck_ , villain?" Stiles demands, because that was totally a bad guy movie scene right there, he's sure he's seen it before. Peter raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

"The trees have ears and the field has eyes," Peter says in lieu of a greeting. Stiles stares at him. What is actually going on right now? He had to have been found by the nalusa chito and his magic obviously failed (because when would it work?) and now here he is in Hell with the Devil dressed as Peter Hale, or perhaps Peter Hale himself is the Devil, and sprouting these weird ass sentence-riddles to him.

"Wha—” Stiles starts to questions, because he knows it's a valid one. What? Just what. What is going on primarily, but also, what?

"Hieronymus Bosch, Stiles, honeslty." Peter rolls his eyes like he's annoyed. Stiles continues to blankly stare. “The Dutch-Netherlandish Renaissance painter? God, do they teach you nothing in school?” He tsks and turns promptly on his heel, walking away.

“Bwah—hey! Where are you going?”

Peter doesn’t answer this, just keeps walking, so Stiles holds in a growl and starts moving through the underbrush to keep up after him.

“You know, you’re not my favorite right now,” Stiles points out, hoping it elicits some kind of reaction. It’s a good thing he’s used to being ignored by some of the Hales, otherwise he’d be seriously concerned that Peter didn’t like him right now.

Peter, after a couple minutes of moving through the woods without speaking, says, “Do you remember what a zwischenzug is, Stiles?”

Stiles bats away a branch and nods, confused but figuring he might as well comply with Peter for now. “Uh, yeah?” He looks at Peter and only receives raised eyebrows in response, clearly waiting for something. “Oh, um, it’s when a player in chess doesn’t go for the expected move, but rather first does a move posing an immediate threat that the opponent must answer, and only then plays the expected move.”

“You and your opponent are in the middle of a zwischenzug,” Peter says simply, coming to a halt. Stiles stops as well, slightly out of breath. Stiles opens his mouth to respond, but Peter keeps going. “They haven’t gone for the expected move, instead throwing you a new threat. You must answer this, even if this puts you in zugzwang. Your opponent will continue to make perilous moves that will require you to answer them as well, eliminating your pieces on the board. Your opponent will be coming for your queen soon, Stiles.”

“My queen? Chess is just a game, Peter.”

“You’d be surprised.”

Stiles stares at Peter, terribly confused. Did he know who…? No, he couldn’t’ve. He would’ve said if he did. Wouldn’t he have?

“You must know your opponents, Stiles,” Peter says, tilting his head up, his eyes shining faintly red in the light. Stiles squints in confusion.

“Opponents? Plural?”

Peter tsks again. “Asking the wrong questions again, Stiles.”

Stiles sighs and crosses his arms over his chest. “Okay, then…” Stiles thinks about what Peter would possibly want him to ask. “Who—who are my opponents?”

Peter grins with all of his teeth. “Any of the Alphas and their Emissaries. Think of them like poker players—”

“We were just talking about chess,” Stiles points out. Peter smiles again.

“A true genius does not limit himself to one game.” Peter spreads his hands out now. “There are four different styles of poker playing: the fish, the chancer, the rock, and the shark.” He counts them off on his fingers and then holds each finger up as he goes down the list. “The fish is not a winning player, often just remaining to see how the situation plays out, but eager to leave if the situation starts to not go their way. This is Ennis. Then, you have the rock, who is worse than the fish in that they also like to stay stagnant, only making a move if they can win. This is Kali.

“Next, there is the chancer, who has absolutely no skill or strategy, relying on luck and fortune. They are often impossible to read. This is Aiden and Ethan. Finally, you have the shark, who keeps all their secrets close to their chest and don’t reveal their motives. They keep you guessing through misdirection. This is Deucalion.”

Stiles holds a hand out. “Wait, Aiden and Ethan? The twin Alphas from Deucalion’s pack? They’re not even here and you forgot Satomi, and technically speaking, yourself and Talia.”

“Did I?” Peter raises an eyebrow, dropping his hands back to his side. “That’s odd.”

He doesn’t elaborate and Stiles throws his hands up in confusion. “Okay, so, what? This is your way of saying we can trust Satomi, but none of the other Alphas?” Peter just looks at him, like he’s willing Stiles to understand it for himself, but Stiles just doesn’t. “Okay, well, then who do you think it is?”

Peter tsks and Stiles thinks if he has to hear that sound one more time that he’ll figure out how to use his magic and magically remove Peter’s tongue, like Ser Ilyn Payne except with, y’know, magic. Whatever, shit threats aside, he’s getting tired of hearing that.

“You’re asking the wrong question again,” Peter hums, shaking his head, and, actually, Stiles is genuinely going to hurt Peter if he has to hear _that_ again. He throws his arms up and squints his eyes shut, rubbing at them to erase all the thoughts racing through his head.

“Then what the hell am I supposed to ask?” He demands, opening his eyes. Peter hums softly and shrugs a shoulder.

“I can’t answer that for you. All I can say is this: ‘beware of false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves.’”

Stiles blinks. “The Bible?”

“Matthew 7:15,” Peter confirms.

"That’s a bit on the nose, isn’t it?” Stiles asks, head tilted slightly.

Peter mimics the movement. “Is it?” he replies, something sharp in his gaze. Then he says, “Goodnight, Stiles.”

Then, Peter turns to walk away.

“Hey! Wait! You can’t just leave!” Peter keeps walking away. “At least tell me which way is my house!”

Peter calls over his shoulder, “Use your spark to guide you,” and disappears into the mist.

Stiles is definitely going to kill him.

+++

Stiles does get back home that night—thirty fucking minutes later, even though he was only fifteen minutes from his house, thanks for nothing, Peter—and kicks off his shoes and jacket, stripping down to his boxers.

He gets all snuggled in bed, moonstone under his pillow, and rolls over so he can face against the wall. His bed no longer really smells like Derek, from when they shared a bed together a week ago, but he nuzzles into the sheets and pretends, pathetically, that they do.

It helps him sleep better anyway.

+++

After waking up and having breakfast with his parents—where he pointedly ignores them asking about what happened when he walked Derek to his car last night—he decides to head over to the Hales, since he knows he’ll just end up over there later anyway.

He blasts his oldies’ playlist the whole way there, jamming to 70’s disco and 40’s jazz when it comes up. His taste in music is crazy diverse, like he can literally jam to _anything_. Derek never seems to like when Stiles plays music though, which is sad for Derek, considering he’s the one who’s terribly uncultured. Stiles has tried to fix him to no avail.

He arrives at the Hale House, parks, and trots up the steps to the front door, preparing himself to see Derek after last night. It was… Intense, to say the least, and he’s quite frankly not sure how to feel about it. On one hand, it was one of the best experiences of his life because the guy he has the world’s biggest crush on, a.k.a. his mate, which is probably a fact that someone out there or maybe the universe finds funny, scented him up and they both very much enjoyed the whole experience. On the other hand, he knows that he’s just projecting a lot of his feelings onto Derek and probably into the bond, which is the cringiest part, because he has never ever wanted Derek to feel like he owes anything to Stiles just because they got stuck together.

He’ll help Derek with whatever his wolf needs to get from this bond they have, and step back when Derek’s human side needs him to, because that’s just what you do when you lo— _really care_ about someone.

Stiles shakes that thought out of his head. Better he doesn’t attach anything like _that_ to his feelings of Derek. He doesn’t need to complicate this any further.

He’s too in his thoughts to notice anything out of the ordinary when he opens the door to the Hale House, but after a moment, he glances up and realizes that there’s two people standing there in front of him that he’s never seen before, like they were on their way out or something. Behind them is Talia, who looks quite tense and unhappy with the whole situation.

“Uh, sorry,” he says, moving out of their way. The two are twins and quite clearly werewolves, if the way they’re sniffing the air is any indication.

“You’re a human,” the one on the left says, not sounding terribly happy about it. The one on the right scrunches his nose up like he smells something bad, which Stiles is pretty sure is referring to him and hey, _rude_. He hasn’t showered yet today, but he doesn’t think he smells _that_ bad, and the whole reason he hasn’t is because he wanted to keep Derek’s scent on him for as long as possible… Sue him, whatever, he’s not ashamed.

Well, not _that_ ashamed. There is a marginal amount of shame.

“Uh, yeah?” He’s not sure what they’re trying to do or what they expect is going to happen, but he’s increasingly aware that he’s probably in a bad position right now.

“Humans are welcome in our pack,” Talia says carefully. The twins share a look before turning their attention back to Stiles, one of them curling his lip upward in a snarl. Stiles takes an involuntary step back and opens his mouth to try to talk his way out of it or something, when Talia growls lowly in her throat.

“Humans are also under our protection, _my_ protection, and I don’t think you want to go against that,” she snaps. The two boys stare at Stiles for another long moment before nodding and turning to head out the door, one of them flashing his red eyes at Stiles.

As they leave, Stiles realizes that he knows exactly who they are.

Ethan and Aiden, the twin Alphas. Also, two of the people that Peter warned him about.

Jesus, is Derek speaking this shit into fruition?

Talia sees them out and comes back inside, putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Are you alright, Stiles?”

He waves his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, no, I’m fine. Totally fine. Hey, uh, how long are those guys gonna be here for?”

Talia sighs. “I’m not sure. They’re a part of Deucalion’s pack and showed up out of nowhere. I have no idea why they just suddenly appeared here, but I imagine they’re here on Deucalion’s orders and will surely be here for some time.” She sighs again, shrugging and taking her hand back. “But that all doesn’t matter. You’re safe here. I assume you’re here for Theo or Derek?”

Stiles smiles. “Derek, this time.”

Talia smiles in return, clearly pleased. “He’s still sleeping, but you know you’re welcome up there. Go ahead. There’s still some breakfast waiting if either of you get hungry.”

“Thanks,” Stiles chirps and turns to head up the stairs. He navigates through the halls and to Derek’s room, tries to listen at the door for a second to see if he can hear Derek, and then remembers the whole point of soundproofing and decides _fuck it_ and heads on in.

Derek is, thankfully, still asleep, and not doing something like jerking off, which would have been literally the worst thing for Stiles to walk in on. Actually, no, he could think of worse, but it would still be very, very bad.

Stiles gently sets his backpack next to Derek’s desk and decides how to go about doing this without Derek freaking out too bad. He sits beside Derek on the bed—who, true to his word, sleeps in the middle—and stares at him for a minute.

He’s beautiful, awake or asleep, just constantly and unendingly beautiful. He looks peaceful like this, too, all soft and warm, like home. Stiles is tempted to reach out and touch him, stroke his cheeks or those damn eyebrows or even run his fingers through his hair, but he shouldn’t, not like this, not when Derek doesn’t know it’s going to happen.

He does, however, lean over the top of Derek, who’s sleeping mostly on his back, his face turned toward the ceiling, one arm slung over his stomach, the other stretched out across the bed. He stares at him some more before leaning in and poking Derek’s cheek.

He doesn’t even stir.

“Killer werewolf instincts”, Stiles’ ass.

Stiles pokes again and again and again until Derek groans and swats up at whatever’s touching him. He hits Stiles’ finger and grabs it, bringing it up to his face. He sleepily sniffs Stiles’ whole hand, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. Stiles supposes that’s one way for werewolves to find out who’s there without them asking.

“’tiles? You smell weird,” Derek mumbles, bringing Stiles’ hand to brush against his cheek, his stubble. He now has Stiles’ hand in a grip so that Stiles’ knuckles are brushing against everything and it’s kind of driving Stiles crazy.

“Uh, good morning, dude,” Stiles tries, hoping this doesn’t get him killed or brutally maimed. Derek groans again, pulling Stiles’ hand across him, like he’s trying to get Stiles to wrap his arm around him, which is kind of what’s happening right now. Stiles tries and fails not to blush.

“Uh—” Stiles starts, but Derek cuts him off.

“Shh, shaddup.” He rolls onto his side, back to Stiles, and Stiles has no choice but to sort of fall into place behind him, arm still wrapped around Derek because of Derek’s grip on his hand.

Stiles huffs and relaxes for a half second, and then Derek is scooting back so that his ass is firmly pressed against Stiles’ crotch, even with the blanket, Stiles’ two bottom layers, and however many layers Derek is wearing, Stiles can still feel _everything_. He snatches his hand out of Derek’s and scrambles back up on the bed into a sitting position, because he can’t do that, he can’t take advantage of Derek like this.

Derek is clearly confused, he doesn’t want this. Stiles would be a dick to do anything, or see it in any other way. Better to stay safe than sorry, too.

“Derek!” Stiles says now, shaking Derek, all the niceties from before gone. He’s trying and failing to not get aroused, but he kind of can’t stop thinking about that feeling of Derek’s ass pressed up against him—

“DEREK!” Stiles shakes him roughly. Derek grumbles and bats at Stiles’ hands, slowly opening his eyes until he’s properly glaring at Stiles. Stiles stops shaking him, and loudly saying his name, at this point.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Derek grounds out, none of that morning/sleeping bliss that Stiles had previously seen.

“You wouldn’t get up,” Stiles says simply, and it’s not a lie, but he also figures he doesn’t need to tell Derek about all that other stuff. “I was trying to wake you up.”

“What the fuck— _why_?”

“Well, it _is_ eight thirty on a Saturday morning, you’ve already wasted some of the day—”

“Stiles, I swear to God, if you ever get me up before ten on a Saturday again, I will rip your throat out with my teeth,” Derek grits out, staring at his ceiling and squeezing his hands into fists for emphasis or something.

“Kinky,” a voice calls from the doorway. Stiles and Derek both look to see Cora standing there, a wicked smile on her face.

“Cora, I will—” Derek doesn’t even finish his own threat before he’s leaping out of bed and down the hall to chase after Cora. Stiles hears something shatter, Talia yelling, and learns that Derek does like to wear his boxer briefs to bed in his own house, too, though thankfully he paired it with a white wifebeater, because had he been shirtless, Stiles literally would not have been able to hide his arousal and that would have been a recipe for disaster for everyone.

Stiles lets the siblings do whatever they want and decides to kick off his shoes so he can properly lay down on Derek’s bed. He grabs a book off the nightstand and starts thumbing through it. It looks like Derek’s old copy of _To Kill a Mockingbird_ , the same copy that Stiles gave Derek for his thirteenth birthday, complete with the dumbest inscription ever on the inside cover, written in his shaky 12-year-old hand: _racism a metaphor for werewolves???_ and Derek’s response, that Stiles has never seen before and now laughs loudly reading: _no, dumbass, the racism is a metaphor for racism_.

He thumbs through the book, smiling to himself, taking note of what quotes Derek has underlined, what he’s written in the margins. It’s probably quite similar to Stiles’ copy at home, that wouldn’t surprise him. He and Derek have the same book taste, most of the time, similar minds and all that. Speaking of…

Stiles puts down the book and scours the room a minute before finding _Macbeth_. It’s still shoved in Derek’s backpack next to his desk, but Stiles takes it out and sits back on the bed, flipping through the pages until he finds the spot where he wrote.

And just underneath that, Derek’s written sometime since he got home last night: _until you’re driven insane by the weight of your sins and your wife randomly and mysteriously commits alleged suicide. that’s around the time you start looking for a marriage counselor_.

Stiles snorts and flips ahead to Derek’s current bookmark, stopping to read the other places where he wrote. He’s currently stopped at the part where Macbeth meets the witches and they tell him about the final prophecies. One of the witches describes what she’s putting in her cauldron and Stiles grins and writes, grabbing a pen from Derek’s nightstand, beside it: _u think I should try something like this? u know, to better “focus my energies” or whateva. do u think it would help???_

He drops the pen back on the nightstand and scoots up in the bed, so he’s leaning against the headboard and can stick his feet under the covers. He flips back past what he’d written in there previously to see the other stuff Derek could come up with.

Derek comes into the room not two minutes later, holding a plate of food and actively eating a piece of bacon. He crawls right into bed beside Stiles and sits so that their arms are fully touching. He, at least, has the decency to pull the covers up over his legs and places the plate in his lap, gesturing toward Stiles.

“Have some,” Derek tells him. Stiles stares at him for a moment and then shakes his head. He opens his mouth to protest, but Derek nudges him. “I made it for you.”

Stiles’ gut clenches and feels this odd wave of something, almost like nausea, but he just nods and reaches down, cursing the placement of the plate, and taking a piece of bacon from the pile. He carefully chews on it, determined to not look at Derek right now.

They eat silently, not really seeming to have much to say to each other. Derek still seems pretty tired, groggy from having just woken up, despite chasing his sister around the house. Stiles doesn’t mind the silence, Derek’s copy of _Macbeth_ still sitting in his lap. Derek doesn’t mind though, at least he hasn’t said anything.

Then, Stiles hears some odd sniffing and turns to find Derek looking at him, nothing subtle about the way he’s sniffing the air, sniffing at Stiles. Stiles raises an eyebrow.

“You smell weird,” Derek says for the second time today. Stiles tries not to flush.

“Well, I haven’t showered since yesterday, so I suppose that’s not a baseless claim,” he admits. Derek rolls his eyes.

“No, I mean, like, you smell _weird_ , like you smell like—like Peter, kind of.”

Derek has a puzzled look on his face and Stiles tries to hide his reaction to that. He definitely didn’t shower after he met with Peter last night or this morning, and while he wasn’t hugging Peter or anything, he supposes it makes sense that Derek of all people could smell the difference on him. The only problem is he literally has no excuse.

He could tell Derek the truth, sure, if he wanted to make everything all complicated. He supposes that maybe he should tell Derek, but… Derek’s been helping him with everything and they’re back on good terms and as much as Stiles appreciates all the help, he doesn’t need it so constantly, contrary to popular belief. It’d be nice if they could remember that.

Stiles finds himself growing agitated and pulls away when Derek leans in to sniff at him again.

“Y’know, it’s pretty weird when you smell me like that,” he snaps without meaning to. He immediately regrets it, especially when Derek’s face closes off completely and he pulls back into his own space, back on his side of the bed. He looks down at his plate and moves it around in his lap a bit, not looking back up at Stiles. He looks like a kicked puppy, if Stiles is being honest, though it does pain him a bit to think that.

“Derek, that’s not—that’s not what I meant, I’m sorry,” he says, reaching a hand out to rest it on Derek’s forearm. Derek doesn’t pull away, but he flinches and it’s 100 times worse than pulling away.

Stiles keeps his hand on Derek’s arm and moves closer to him, trying to swallow back the guilt.

“Derek, hey, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I don’t mind the smelling thing, I really don’t. I get that that’s just you. It’s just that sometimes it’s—it’s like a personal thing, like personal space, I mean. Sometimes it’s cool when you invade it, especially when I give you permission, sometimes it’s not, especially when I don’t give you permission. I know you sometimes can’t help it, but just… Be more subtle? Or don’t tell me what I smell like. Please.”

Derek, after a moment, meets his eyes, still looking like a scolded dog—or wolf, rather—but slightly less hunted. Stiles, despite his brain screaming at him not to get any closer lest he wants to give himself away, does move closer and reaches his other hand up to brush his fingertips gently at scruff of Derek’s jaw. But it works, because Derek tilts his head ever so slightly into Stiles’ touch.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says again, because Derek still isn’t saying anything and it’s driving him a bit crazy. He just needs to make sure they’re okay again. That he didn’t ruin this yet again. The way he seems to always ruin everything.

“It’s okay,” Derek murmurs after an agonizing minute of silence. Stiles shakes his head.

“No, it isn’t,” he protests, both to his overreaction and to Derek’s complete dismissal of everything. But Derek shakes his head, bumping into Stiles’ hand. He tenses underneath Stiles’ touch for a moment, his forearm muscles tightening, before he relaxes and shakes his head again.

“It’s fine. I—I won’t do that without your permission again. I’m sorry.”

“No, Derek, that wasn’t what I was saying, I just meant—”

“Hey, so, Cora started reading this new book and was telling me all about it. Sounds like something you’d like,” Derek says abruptly, adjusting how he’s sitting and moving the plate of food in and out of his lap. He picks up the eggs with his fingers and eats them like that, because he’s a real caveman, but Stiles kind of finds it endearing. He also decides not to comment on the fact that Derek is changing the topic, because he doesn’t want to keep fighting.

“Oh yeah? What’s it about?” Stiles drops his hand from Derek’s face and takes another piece of bacon, even though he isn’t hungry, because not only is it really good bacon (courtesy of Theo’s mom Rhea no doubt) but also because it also gives the semblance of normalcy that Derek is looking for. He can pretend everything is alright for right now if that’s what Derek wants to pretend. They’ll table the discussion for later, they silently agree as they split Derek’s breakfast.

Derek continues the charade and starts talking rather animatedly about this book that Cora’s reading, which just further proves that it’s all a cover because he doesn’t ever talk this fast while not looking at Stiles unless he’s trying to hide or avoid something. (Well, to be fair, he’s only done something like this like once or twice before, about a year ago when Stiles accidentally brought up Kate Argent because he had a suspicion and Derek froze and that’s how Stiles discovered something actually _had_ happened between them, not that Derek actually told him anything, he had to figure what he could out by himself; and once before that when Stiles had, once again, spoken somewhat out of turn when they were thirteen and brought up masturbation and boy, how awkward Derek had gotten for _that_ conversation.)

Stiles engages him in conversation and eventually the awkwardness and tension fade until they are having a casual discussion about new and old books, reclining back on Derek’s bed, the empty plate having been relocated to the nightstand.

As they talk, Derek gets comfortable again and his limbs slowly start to push against Stiles, not cuddling exactly, but loosely entangled with each other, until Stiles has temporarily forgotten that there was ever a problem between them in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes, we have stiles getting defensive and saying the wrong thing, blaming everything on himself, and derek trying hard to not let his past issues affect him currently and failing and refusing to talk about any of it. the healthiest relationship, y'all (they're getting better, it does take time though, and there are often relapses, i'm sorry)
> 
> and peter and stiles talk! i will say again, that literally almost everything peter says can mean something else. like, literally, almost anything. i really wanna know what your guys' speculation is with all that!
> 
> a zugzwang is defined as "a situation in which the obligation to make a move in one's turn is a serious, often decisive, disadvantage." so basically, your opponent backs you into a metaphorical corner where even your best move means sudden danger. for those that don't know
> 
> i do not play poker, never have, and i've only played chess like once while i was drunk (and won, thank you very much), so unfortunately i don't know much about either. or dutch-netherlandish painters from the renaissance era, or the bible, for that matter so lmao sorry if nothing makes sense (though i did a lot of research, so i hope that translates well)
> 
> we meet the twins! and learn a bit about them, just a tiny smidge, and awkward situations for stiles because i can't help myself, it's just too funny. and derek and stiles totally communicate via book margins, that is definitely a thing that happens.
> 
> and then the boys suck at being together because someone always puts their foot in their mouth (stiles) and someone else can't communicate well enough to have a proper conversation (derek). yikes. 
> 
> please, if y'all have any theories or whatever, feel free to let me know! i'm so interested in what you guys could be thinking right now!
> 
> also, last thing, everything in my personal life is kind of a mess right now, like seriously big ass explosion, so i apologize if anything is not as great as it normally is or if something is off, i'm trying to get everything taken care of right now but it's very frustrating :( anyway, that's all i have, thank you all for reading! it seriously means the world! <3


	12. a beast is in the heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can you stay tonight?” he asks quietly. Stiles thinks that he’s misheard Derek because there’s absolutely no way that Derek just actually asked him that, but he did apparently, because he’s looking at Stiles with this adorable doe-like eyes that are, like, peering into his soul and he’s just waiting patiently for Stiles to say something, but Stiles is at a complete loss for words.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally i was gonna post this super long chapter, but it ended up being like ridiculously long, so much so that i couldn't justify it, so i chopped it in half and this is the first portion. i might post the next portion sooner just to make up for it, so maybe like sunday or something, saturday if i'm really feeling it
> 
> chapter title comes from "maneater" by hall & oates

It’s just before noon when Stiles decides he’s hungry enough to get something to eat, carefully extracts his limbs from Derek’s grasp, asks if he wants anything to. Derek makes a non-committal noise, but Stiles knows that Derek’s not only a werewolf, but also a teenage boy, which means he’ll almost never turn down food.

Stiles grabs the dirty plate from breakfast, promising to be right back, Derek giving him a grunt of acknowledgment. Stiles heads out the door and makes the short walk down the hall to the back staircase, the one that comes out just behind the kitchen.

There’s family milling about, like there always is, and everyone greets Stiles in some form. He drops the dirty plate in the sink, where there’s no other dishes so Stiles kinda feels bad about that, but he’s not going to take the time to clean the dish right now.

He grabs chips and crackers and anything he can get his hands on, grabbing two water bottles as well. He’s about to make his way back to the staircase when a voice hisses at him.

“ _Emissary!_ ”

Stiles turns around to see the blonde Emissary, Satomi’s Emissary, standing at the archway of the kitchen, looking at him rather frantically. This is one of those rare times when there isn’t any activity in the kitchen beside Stiles, so no one else is seeing this.

He opens his mouth to say something, but she makes a shushing motion with her lips and finger, and then waves him over again. He decides _fuck it_ and approaches her slowly. She makes her waving movements faster so he walks a little faster, too.

When he gets close enough, she latches onto him and pulls him tightly, dragging him around the corner and down the hall into the study. She lets go and shuts the door behind them, stopping to press her ear against the wood for a moment.

Stiles waits until she’s satisfied enough to pull away to give her a look of _hi, what the fuck are you doing?_ He thinks it reads rather well considering she immediately looks apologetic.

“I’m sorry, but I had to talk to you. I had to tell you something that’s best left private,” she says. Alya tucks a blonde strand of hair behind her ear, suddenly growing sheepish. She keeps glancing over her shoulder. Stiles adjusts the snacks in his arms.

“Uh, okay, I guess. Tell away.”

“My name is Alya Tomachi and I am Emissary to Satomi’s pack. I—there has been some strange things going on around here.” Another glance over her shoulder, then to the windows, like someone could be peeking in. The whole thing is rather odd and puts Stiles on edge. “I can tell you that Satomi is completely innocent of all charges, only cursed with being in the Pack with those three incompetent Alphas.”

Alya whispers the last part, and Stiles notes how she also says three Alphas and not four and thus (probably) doesn’t think Talia incompetent, which helps her case in Stiles’ opinion.

“I know Satomi is innocent,” Stiles tells her, because even though he doesn’t exactly have definitive proof, he’s pretty much come to the conclusion that, yes, Satomi is innocent because she’s the least likely to be a total asshole and want to kill Stiles, which is a weird way to scale things, but that’s sort of how it has to be right now.

“There’s more. Kali’s Emissary, Jennifer, I’ve seen her face before, but I can’t tell where. And there’s… There’s something off in her, I can just feel it. Something… Almost dark.” Alya gets this haunted look on her face before she shakes it off and grips tightly onto Stiles’ forearms, mindful of the snacks, her silver eyes wide. “You must watch out for her, Emissary! You are too valuable to lose.”

“I’m not—why do you keep calling me Emissary?” Stiles asks, but Alya pulls away before the sentence is half-way through and slips out the door, saying nothing more, giving him no other clues or hints.

He watches her leave in silent confusion. Then he re-adjusts his grips on his snacks and pushes the door open more with his foot, slipping out into the hallway. When he looks up, he almost drops everything in his grip.

Standing before him is Deucalion, a slight smile on his face, one that makes him look like he knows something that Stiles doesn’t, which… Is really Bad News Bears, Stiles absolutely hates that expression.

“Uh…” Stiles starts dumbly, the utterance more slipping out than anything. But it’s not like Deucalion didn’t know he was there or anything, not like he could hide from literal werewolf senses.

“Mousy little thing, isn’t she?” Deucalion says in response. Stiles stares at him for a moment and absently nods before realizing that Deucalion can’t actually see him.

“Uh, yeah, uh-huh.” Stiles tries to side-step around Deucalion, but Deucalion suddenly shifts so that he’s standing in front of Stiles. Stiles automatically takes a step back, tightening his grip on his snacks, the bags and plastic crinkling under the stress and pressure of his fingers.

“What, exactly, is a spark, _Stiles_?” Deucalion asks. Stiles has never heard anyone _purr_ a name before, but that’s almost exactly what Deucalion just did. There’s a weirdly seductive and alluring quality to it, and it makes Stiles’ skin crawl. He represses his shivers.

“You heard Deaton and my mother,” Stiles tries to dismiss, but Deucalion clucks his tongue.

“Your mother spoke mainly in Polish, which I do not speak. Explain it for me, won’t you?”

Stiles bites his tongue and then clears his throat and nods. “Okay… It’s, um, like a person that is magic, has magic flowing through them. Like a druid, in a way.”

“But not quite,” Deucalion replies, an ominous smile curling at the corners of his lips. Stiles almost takes a step back out of pure survival instinct, but he stops himself. He doesn’t want to give Deucalion anything, anything he might use in any way that would be detrimental to Stiles.

“Sparks are stronger than druids, from what I’ve heard,” Deucalion says. He makes a shrugging motion, spreading one hand out. “Exactly how much power do you have, Stiles?”

Stiles opens his mouth, trying desperately to think of some reply to placate him, but nothing is coming up. He settles for, “I-I don’t know,” hating how he stutters at the beginning of the sentence.

Deucalion’s eerie smile starts to grow and he opens his mouth to speak before a new voice is interrupting him.

“Hey, Stiles, where’d you go—" Derek calls out, voice halting when he comes around the corner and sees Stiles all but trapped in front of Deucalion, who, at this angle, has his back to Derek. So Stiles sees the pleased smile curl on Deucalion’s face, but Derek doesn’t.

Deucalion doesn’t say anything, at least not quick enough, so Stiles scoots around him, pressing his back against the wall so he doesn’t touch Deucalion even though the hallway is rather big, and hurries over past Derek.

“Thanks for the conversation,” Stiles says, slightly sarcastically, but mostly out of fear. Deucalion turns his direction and continues smiling at him.

“It was very… Enlightening,” Deucalion replies. Stiles doesn’t dignify that with a response and instead nudges Derek, moving past him back into the kitchen so he can head upstairs. Derek, after a moment, follows closely behind.

When they get back to Derek’s room, Stiles drops all the snacks on the bed. The water bottles are cold and have turned his hand and forearm all red and it stings now, but he couldn’t pay much attention to it before when Deucalion had him cornered.

Derek closes and locks the door. He leans against it and looks at Stiles, eyes roaming over him and probably trying to see if he’s hurt anywhere.

“What exactly happened?” he asks.

Stiles blows out a breath and rubs a hand through his hair. His heart is beating pretty fast, and he knows that Deucalion could hear that, that Derek can hear it now. He sits on the edge of the bed, trying not to crush the snacks.

He takes another deep breath and relays everything that happened regarding Deucalion, purposely leaving out what happened with Alya. Derek probably doesn’t need to know about that just yet. He’ll tell him. In time.

Derek, to his credit, takes the information in stride, and doesn’t get all mad like Stiles half-suspected he would, since that seems to be his new reaction whenever something mildly interesting happens to Stiles. Then Derek comes over and sits beside Stiles on the bed, their thighs pressed against each other, elbows knocking together.

“Just… Try not to talk him anymore,” Derek instructs. “Unless absolutely necessary, I suppose.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees. “That’s probably a good idea.” He goes silent for a moment before he thinks about what Deucalion asked him and realized he and Derek have never had this conversation. “So… What, exactly, do you think of my spark?”

Derek looks over at him, trying to take in his expression. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, were you surprised? When you found out what I am?”

Derek makes a contemplative expression before shaking his head. “No, I mean, it makes sense.”

“What do you mean?” Stiles asks when he doesn’t elaborate.

Derek shrugs. “I guess I always thought there was something hidden about you. Something that wasn’t exactly human, that was more than human. You being magic, given everything you do and who you are as a person, it’s hardly surprising. It makes sense.”

Stiles doesn’t know what he means by “everything you do and who you are as a person”, but he decides not to ask because he doesn’t want to keep pestering Derek or make it seem like he’s fishing for compliments.

He does, however, say, “But do you think I’ll be okay? I mean, as the next Emissary of the Hale pack. I don’t even know how to be an Emissary, I don’t want to be wrong for you.”

He mostly means for the Hale pack, but he also means for Derek in particular. He hopes Derek doesn’t pick up on this, no matter how much he actually wants to tell him.

“You’ll be fine, Stiles. You’re exactly who we need. Strong, intelligent, kind, the right bit of snarky and sarcastic, incredibly brave and loyal. You’ll fit perfectly.”

Stiles really isn’t expecting the compliments to come pouring out of Derek’s mouth at all. He blinks, unsure of how to respond to that for a moment. He wants to ask Derek why he’s suddenly being so nice all the time, acting like a proper mate all of the sudden, but he just knows that would ruin the moment and the tentative bond they have and have been developing.

So instead he says, “Thanks, Derek,” and hopes he can leave it there.

But Derek can’t apparently, because he bows his head, a blush forming on his cheeks, and starts playing with his hands. He doesn’t say anything right away and the silence goes on long enough that Stiles almost says something, but then Derek suddenly looks up and meets his gaze.

“Can you stay tonight?” he asks quietly. Stiles thinks that he’s misheard Derek because there’s absolutely no way that Derek just actually asked him that, but he did apparently, because he’s looking at Stiles with this adorable doe-like eyes that are, like, peering into his soul and he’s just waiting patiently for Stiles to say something, but Stiles is at a complete loss for words.

He’s stayed the night at Derek’s in the past, they’ve had sleepovers before the night Scott got bit and Derek forcibly spent the night at Stiles’ house and curled up beside him in bed, which Stiles absolutely does not still think about. But in all those sleepovers, they’ve slept either in the living room on the couches or pulled up an air mattress and put in on the floor of Derek’s room for Stiles to sleep on the floor. And Stiles has this weird inkling that feels a lot like hope that Derek is not suggesting either of those options, but rather that Stiles stay in bed with Derek.

Stiles, panicking, blurts out, “I don’t have any clothes.”

Derek smiles, a genuine, relaxed, easy smile. “You can just wear mine,” he says, like it’s not a big deal. If it were Scott, it wouldn’t be a big deal. Hell, even if it were Theo, it would not be a big deal. Stiles could probably squeeze into her sweats, they’re not that far off in sizes. But Derek? Derek’s clothes? Derek’s _scent_?

It’s a huge fucking deal.

But Stiles says, “Oh, yeah, uh okay.” Derek’s face brightens and Stiles figures he must’ve made the right decision somewhere. He’d kill to see that expression on Derek’s face the rest of his life.

+++

About an hour later, Lydia and her mother show up at the front door. Stiles and Derek are downstairs at this point, Deucalion thankfully having disappeared God knows where, but no longer in the Hale House from what Derek can smell.

Stiles is the one to open the door and smiles when he sees the Martins.

“Hey, Ms. Martin. Hey, Lyds,” he greets, although the nickname makes her wrinkle her nose. He is, however, the only person who can call her that without any harm being done to his person, beside Allison of course. Stiles suspects Allison can get away with anything when it comes to Lydia; if Allison and Scott weren’t already bonded, Stiles would suspect that Allison and Lydia would be bonded, probably platonically. Though he’s not sure if you can have a double bond, maybe Allison is doubly bonded with Scott and Lydia, who really knows.

Natalie smiles at Stiles and returns the greeting. Lydia raises her eyebrow at him (friendly, but simultaneously judging him and everything he does).

“Hello, Stiles. Is Talia here?”

“Yeah, she should be around. Come in, Derek and I were just watching a show in the family room.”

Lydia, to her credit, doesn’t say anything about him and Derek hanging out casually in Derek’s family room while the rest of his family is home but seemingly leaving them alone. He expects teasing from her, but she doesn’t say anything, just lifts her head up and strolls past him into the house.

Natalie knows the way to the family room better than Lydia does, which isn’t a surprise considering that Lydia has almost never been here, but it should be a surprise that Natalie apparently has. Stiles makes up the caboose of their little train, and when the three of them enter the family room, Derek sits up properly from where he’d be lounging on the couch eating chips.

“Ms. Martin, Lydia,” he greets, making an aborted gesture to stand up. Natalie holds out a hand and Derek sits back down.

“Derek,” Lydia says, giving him an inscrutable expression. Derek gives her a look back and they both make faces of understanding. Stiles wonders what that’s all about, if beautiful people can read each other’s minds or what.

“Natalie, please, the both of you,” Natalie tells Derek and Stiles. Stiles comes to sit next to Derek on one of the couches. Lydia and Natalie move to take the other, at Stiles’ gesture for them to sit. “You two are having a good Saturday?”

Stiles hesitates, glancing over at Derek, who shares his hesitation and returns the glance. When Stiles turns back to Natalie, he catches the expression on the Martins’ faces, in that they both misinterpreted Stiles and Derek’s silence and shared glance. Natalie’s face goes slightly embarrassed in the way a parent’s does when they inadvertently learn that their children and children’s friends have sex. Lydia’s turns absolutely devious and mischievous, her lips curling up and her eyebrows pulling slightly together in the middle.

Stiles hurries to correct them.

“Oh, no! Not like th—we weren’t doing—we were just watching a show in here—a-a family show!”

But it’s too over-the-top and Lydia starts laughing, tossing her head and hair back and Natalie politely starts fixing her rings on her fingers, avoiding Stiles’ desperate gaze. Stiles turns to look at Derek, but he just looks like he regrets his life and has no intention of helping Stiles anytime soon.

“We weren’t doing—we wouldn’t—I mean—”

“Stiles,” Natalie interrupts. “It’s quite alright. We weren’t trying to insinuate—”

“You didn’t! Because we wouldn’t! We’re—that’s not—” Stiles huffs, unsure of how to untangle this knot further. No one is seeming to believe him or in his ability to speak, especially not Derek, who looks more and more like he wishes he were dead at the very least.

“I’ll take it from here, Stiles,” Talia’s voice says and Stiles turns to see her standing there, Peter just behind her, and shrinks into himself because there’s no doubt that she and the rest of the house overheard that awkward ass conversation.

“Of course,” he says, cursing everything and standing, moving to give Talia space to sit down. Derek rises too and they both take the armchairs on the other side of the room. Peter remains standing behind the couch because he’s a weirdo that Stiles has learned to not question. There’s also something about how he doesn’t do social gatherings or rather lacks the ability to handle people for a long time, which Stiles gets, all things considered. But he’s somehow interested in this conversation today. Which is interesting to Stiles.

“Natalie, Lydia, how are you both?” Talia greets politely. Natalie returns the polite greeting while Lydia looks very wary and slightly bitchy, almost, which Stiles knows means she’s uncomfortable and slightly concerned.

“What exactly are we doing here?” Lydia interrupts her mother’s answer of how work is going. Talia hardly looks fazed, but Natalie looks a little surprised at the outburst.

“Lydia!” she admonishes. Lydia manages an apologetic expression before looking to Stiles and gesturing to him and Derek.

“And why are they here? And why is he here?” She gestures now to Peter, who smiles creepily. Lydia’s upper lip recoils in distaste, but she remains in her perfect pose. Natalie puts a hand on Lydia’s forearm.

“Lydia, don’t be rude,” she says. Talia waves her hand.

“Please, she has a right to be curious. I would be, if I was in her situation.” Talia looks at Lydia and offers her a kind smile. You’re a very bright girl, Lydia, that’s what Cora tells me.”

Lydia clearly tries to disguise her blush, but it doesn’t work very well. She adjusts her skirt and crosses her arms over her chest.

“Yeah, so?” Then Lydia narrows her eyes. “This has to do with that Bestiary, right?”

“In a way, yes. Though I think this is more your mother’s position to tell you,” Talia says, gesturing to Natalie.

Natalie looks slightly nervous. “I hardly know anything, Talia, you’re the expert.”

“It’ll be fine. I’m here if there are any questions.”

Natalie nods, squaring her jaw. Then she takes Lydia’s hand and looks her dead in the eyes.

“Lydia, this is going to be… Hard to explain. You, well, your father should be the one telling you this, but… You know how he is. She was his mother, after all—”

“Mom, please. What does Grandma have to do with any of this?”

Natalie squeezes Lydia’s hand. “Well, you know how I always call Lorraine ‘special’. I never mean it in a bad way. She was, _very_ special. She…” Natalie takes a deep breath. “She was a banshee. And she had always told me before she died that she knew you were going to be one, too, that I should let you come into your powers naturally on your eighteenth birthday. Granted, she wanted to raise you in the supernatural world, but I was afraid. Still am. I just don’t want to see you hurt, Lydia, and if you jump into this supernatural stuff, you’re far more likely to be hurt. It’s your choice if you want to do this, of course, but I’m worried—”

“Hold on, hold on!” Lydia took back her hand and held them both up in a stopping motion. “You’re telling me… What, that I’m a banshee? Like, the lady that screams? The myth?”

Stiles can’t believe his ears, either. Lydia, a banshee? He hardly knows what that is, but he remembers reading something once about an Irish story, maybe Scottish, about a woman screaming, but he can’t think of anything past that.

“A banshee is a harbinger of death,” Peter offers from behind the couch, looking highly intrigued. “Her screams can predict death before it happens. She can… Connect to the supernatural world in ways that other creatures can’t. Quite powerful, quite rare.”

_Rare_. The word echoes in Stiles’ mind. He remembers what Derek said, about Deucalion and rarity. It’s pretty bizarre, this event occurring right after Stiles saw the Alpha twins for the first time. And the thing about kitsune, too, now that he’s thinking about it.

Weird.

“Not helpful, Peter,” Talia hisses to her younger brother. Peter just shrugs.

Lydia looks freaked out, but not nearly as much as Stiles thought she would be. He glances at Derek, who returns the look, before turning back to Lydia.

Then Lydia laughs a bit incredulously. “You can’t be serious. You’re not actually—that doesn’t…” Lydia waves a hand angrily. “There’s no such thing as banshees! First werewolves and now this…”

“Lydia, tell me this doesn’t explain a couple of things. Visions you’ve had, nightmares, voices,” Natalie tries to soothe. Lydia quickly glances at Stiles and Derek, and Stiles sees the fear in her eyes. It’s such an odd look on Lydia, the girl who never seems to be afraid of anything.

“I’m not crazy,” she says, like she’s trying to convince someone of it, maybe herself. Natalie runs a hand down Lydia’s arm.

“No, you’re not,” she agrees. “You have a special gift that allows you to do many things.”

“Like practice death?” Lydia laughs, disbelief slipping into her tone. “Oh, right, what a great gift. How could that possibly do anything to help people?”

Stiles does like that her mind immediately goes to helping people, because deep down, that’s exactly the kind of person Lydia is, always will help people whenever she can, though sometimes it takes a little push for her to get going.

“Banshees are predictors of death, yes, but that can be helpful in many ways. With a banshee’s scream, you can tune into the voices of that little supernatural airway and connect with them, find hidden information, contact people, warn them, guide them. You are a warning and a threat all in one. Not to mention the purported offensive abilities you have. Of course, it’ll be hard for one of us to teach you those abilities and not a real banshee, but we’ll make do,” Peter says.

Lydia stares at him for a second before tearing her gaze away, focusing on the wooden centerpiece on the coffee table.

“This is crazy, this isn’t—this is all crazy.”

Stiles nudges Derek, who immediately takes the hint and stands. Stiles rises, too. “We’re gonna grab some water. Would anyone like water?”

“Two for Natalie and Lydia, please,” Talia instructs. Stiles nods and heads out of the family room with Derek in tow. When they get out of human earshot, Stiles looks at Derek.

“A banshee?” he asks.

Derek makes a little face, like he’s contemplating something. “Old Welsh/Gaelic mythology. What Peter said, a harbinger of death. Mythology has no good depictions of her, but you know that mythology is often different from reality.”

Stiles snorts. He remembers this one thing he read online—which should’ve been the tip off, but whatever—that werewolves, like vampires, have no shadows or reflections, because both shadows and reflections are indications of a soul and werewolves and vampires are supposedly soulless. He’s always thought that funny, because almost all of the werewolves he’s met are the furthest thing from soulless there is.

“Yeah, no, definitely agree with you there,” Stiles says as they enter the kitchen. Derek gets four cups out of the cabinet and hands them to Stiles as he starts filling them with ice and water.

“Do you think Lydia is going to take it well?” Stiles asks. Derek shrugs.

“She wasn’t really taking it well when we left.”

“I took it well when I first found out.”

“You were, what, five? Of course you thought werewolves were cool. Lydia’s sixteen now and spent her entire life in the mortal world, unaware of what was lurking beneath the surface. She’s spent her entire life denying the existence of monsters and now she’s found out she is one? I’d probably be freaked out, too.”

“Well, I just found out I’m a spark and I took that well.”

Derek sighs, passing him another cup. “No, you did not, Stiles. And you’re an outlier, anyway, your experiences don’t work with the curve.”

Stiles pretends to be offended. “That’s rude! Don’t tell me my experiences don’t matter!”

“You’re literally impossible,” Derek tells him, and grabs two cups, leaving Stiles by himself.

Stiles rolls his eyes and grabs the other two cups, heading after him.

When they return to the family room, everything seems to have calmed down. Lydia doesn’t look at all stressed out, not a single hair out of placed, and seems somewhat relaxed. Natalie seems more tense than her, Talia calm, and Peter’s making that weird face he does when he’s judging if something is worth his time.

Stiles assumes Derek is going to set the waters down in front of Lydia and Natalie, but he seems like he’s waiting for something, so Stiles sets his cups in front of them and takes a seat. Only then does Derek move, offering one of his cups to Stiles silently. Stiles takes it and pointedly does not look at Lydia when he feels her eyes on him.

“So, then what is Derek?” Lydia asks as the man in question sits next to Stiles.

Stiles makes an indignant noise. “Um, hello, I could be something too!”

Lydia levels him an unimpressed look, probably remembering him evading that question when she first asked if he was a werewolf. “Like what?”

Natalie makes a clucking noise. “Lydia,” she admonishes.

“Well, look at him!”

Stiles knows that Lydia means it mainly in jest, but it still stings a little, because not terribly long ago she would’ve said it and meant it and not thought twice about it.

“He’s a spark, and a very powerful one at that,” Derek growls, his anger coming seemingly out of nowhere. Stiles raises an eyebrow and looks at him—and he’s glaring hardcore at Lydia—and then back at Lydia, who has both eyebrows raised but doesn’t seem too concerned, looking more interested than anything.

“Derek,” Talia says and Derek tears his gaze away and to look at her. Talia makes a pointed expression. “That was not your secret to tell. And don’t be rude to Lydia.”

“If she’s going to be in our pack, she should know—”

“She hasn’t made that decision, yet, nor does she have to. Don’t be rude.”

Talia lets red bleed into her irises and Stiles can feel the effect in his bones. He automatically slouches a little in his seat, because even though her glare was directed at Derek, Stiles is sitting right in front of Derek from Talia’s angle, and he felt it first.

“Sorry, Lydia,” Derek grinds out, wilting under the glare. He glances at Stiles. “Sorry.”

“Derek is a werewolf,” Stiles tells Lydia, dropping a hand onto Derek’s knee and patting it, mainly to acknowledge his apology. “He’s a little aggressive.”

“Protective, I’d say,” Lydia hums, looking contemplative and not at all bothered by the fact that he’s a werewolf. Cora’s probably filled her in on some things, then. “And the secret relationship that you two have…?”

“Okay!” Stiles exclaims, getting to his feet, because they are so not having this discussion with parents present, and not at all ever, preferably. “That’s enough of that.”

“Well, you are in a secret relationship, right? No one can figure it out at school, but I’ve suspected all along. I was waiting for you to tell me, but clearly that strategy isn’t working—”

“Lydia, for the love of God,” Stiles says, taking his hand off Derek’s knee to pinch the bridge of his nose and ignoring everyone’s eyes who are probably on him.

“The way you two interact, the touching and the pressing up against one another and the sneaking off—”

“Jesus Christ!”

Stiles does the best thing he can think of and just walks out of the room.

“Thanks for the water, Stiles! We’ll talk later!” Lydia calls out to him, mirth evident in her voice.

Stiles goes up to Derek’s room and shuts the door and crawls under the covers, blushing furiously and wishing he were dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we got alya, deucalion, derek, and the martins all in one go around! there's a lot of subtleties with the plot happening in this chapter, necessary but not really all that fast going, i do apologize for that
> 
> i don't have much to say for this chapter other than i know lydia's finding out dragged a bit, but i really found that information interesting and wanted to include what i think would be a realistic reaction from her. also, i've been writing derek softer and softer as we progress and that's to signal that he's becoming more and more comfortable around stiles, i hope that's made somewhat clear! 
> 
> and we love stiles being a dramatic teenager filled with angst, and derek giving him little droplets of validation whenever they stumble onto a somewhat serious topic, and lydia calling them out in front of everybody, quite beautiful
> 
> anyway, thank you everyone! i will try to post the next portion of this very soon, which is a bit short so i'm thinking i'll post it in between scheduled times as a bonus, though it is VERY important to the story, i will tell you that! (or maybe double post on monday? let me know what you think!) thank you all <3


	13. a heart like mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't add that to your Google search history, Stiles."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah yes here it is. all fluff, teeny blink-and-you'll-miss-it angst, and me loving my life
> 
> chapter title comes from "heart like yours" by willamette stone, aka the band from the movie if i stay (they wrote some bangers, y'all, highly recommend them too)

When Derek comes up later, it’s, thankfully, not awkward. Stiles’ big production apparently didn’t make too much of a splash because the door creaks open before closing again and a mass dips the mattress and climbs on the other side of the bed.

Legs join him in the covers, but the upper half of the body stays above them, probably leaning against the headboard. Stiles waits a minute before realizing that he literally can’t resist and indulges himself, scooting over so his body is pressed against the legs, throwing his arm over Derek’s lap and peeking his head out from under the covers so he can rest his head in Derek’s lap without being that close to his junk, because he feels like that’ll just be bad for everyone involved.

He doesn’t open his eyes at all and surprisingly doesn’t startle when a tentative hand drops to his head and starts softly petting it, running gentle fingers through his hair.

He falls asleep not long after.

+++

He wakes up in the same position, but when he opens his eyes, the world is all dusky and blue, like during the late afternoon of a cloudy day. He hums involuntarily as he stirs back into existence, the fingers that are still combing through his hair stopping for a brief moment before they resume their strokes.

He starts to stretch and move around and the movements stop again as he turns, one hand landing on a thigh, the other forearm helping to push him somewhat up so he can look upward and see who’s been touching him, his head still a bit cloudy from sleep.

“D’rek?” he mumbles, still worn out from his impromptu nap.

Derek’s face peers down at him from his position up by the headboard. He raises an eyebrow, one hand holding a book and the other raised in the air, probably the one he was using to pet Stiles.

“Yes?”

Stiles huffs a laugh at the expression on Derek’s face, almost like a startled deer. He lowers himself back down to lay his head in Derek’s lap, using the arm that was supporting him to wrap around Derek’s back and dropping the other so it’s resting right against Derek’s thigh.

After a moment, Derek brings his hand down and starts rubbing Stiles’ back instead. Stiles allows himself to enjoy this before he says, “Turn on some music. And not your emo shit, I mean good music.”

“Like your 80’s shit?” Derek asks, but his hand disappears again and a couple seconds later, music is drifting quietly through the air, that playlist Stiles put on Derek’s phone months ago that’s actually good music that he was sure Derek would’ve deleted.

But apparently not.

Derek’s hand drops back down on Stiles’ back and starts rubbing again.

“ _You’re packed and you’re stacked ‘specially in the back/Brother, wanna thank your mother for a butt like that_ ,” Stiles mumbles under his breath with the music as he listens. He feels his pillow silently shaking and glances up at Derek to see him bending over a little, _laughing_.

Stiles grins. “What’s so funny?” he demands. Derek calms himself down and shakes his head, which is a shame because he looks absolutely beautiful when he laughs like that.

“You singing that song all cuddled up under the covers,” Derek says, making a vague gesture with his book hand. “It’s funny.”

Stiles pinches right where Derek’s love handles would be if he had any body fat percentage. Derek hardly jumps, but just huffs another laugh.

“Shut up,” Stiles says, because he doesn’t really have any material right now, his brain is all sleep fried. “Just—go back to reading your nerd book and let me live.”

Derek laughs quietly again, a short one, and makes an assenting noise. “Fine, fine.”

Stiles adjusts his position again in order to get comfortable, Derek waiting until he is before going back to rubbing his back, Salt-N-Pepa rapping softly in the background.

They pass the next couple hours like that, only moving when Talia knocks on the door and peeks her head in, saying it’s time for dinner. She beams at the sight of them, but says nothing.

Derek makes a move to get up, but Stiles groans.

“No, don’t go,” he whines as Derek gently shifts Stiles off of him.

“I literally can’t feel my legs, Stiles, it’s probably time we get up anyway.”

True to his word, Derek wobbles a little when he gets on two legs and Stiles can’t help but feel a little bad.

“Why didn’t you say something? I would’ve moved.”

“You were comfortable,” Derek says with a shrug, like it’s nothing.

Stiles’ heart melts for this boy.

“Oh, okay. Thanks,” he says softly, trying really hard to get the heart eyes out of his gaze. Derek rubs his neck, face turning pink, clearly embarrassed.

God, Stiles lo— _cares_ a lot about him. Yep. Cares a lot about him.

“So, dinner?” Derek asks. Stiles, surprisingly, isn’t very hungry though, and he’s much more interested in staying here and lying in bed than he is going out and interacting with people.

He shakes his head. “I’m not very hungry. I’m just gonna chill here, if that’s cool with you.”

Derek stares at him for a long moment, as if he’s judging what’s wrong with Stiles, before he nods, apparently to himself.

“Fine. I’ll be back,” he says, and leans in for a moment before getting a shocked expression on his face and leaning back.

He exits the room quickly, leaving the door open.

Stiles wonders what the hell that was about. What was he leaning in for anyway? Maybe his phone, which is still playing music behind Stiles, but why did he look so shocked?

That was weird.

Stiles dismisses it and lays back down in Derek’s bed, claiming the spot Derek was just in because of its warmth.

He’s not there for three minutes before there’s feet padding down the hall and he looks up, Derek coming into the room and holding two bowls in one hand and two drinks in another.

Stiles raises an eyebrow, trying to be cool while his heart crept into his throat at the sight.

“I didn’t want you to feel lonely or miss out. But I don’t have to stay, if you don’t want me to,” Derek says, crossing the room to put the drinks down on the dresser. He gestures with the bowls. “It’s just my mom’s homemade spicy mac and cheese, my grandma Sonia’s old recipe.”

Stiles has had Talia’s version of Grandma Sonia’s spicy mac and cheese and it’s literally to die for. He quickly finds his appetite and sits up, moving Derek’s phone and scooting over so Derek can have his spot back.

“Thank you,” he tells Derek, because he doesn’t think that boy hears it enough, especially for all the shit he does. Derek’s cheeks go slightly red again and he just nods. He takes the empty spot and hands Stiles his bowl. Stiles starts poking around his food to Amy Winehouse calling for Valerie in Mark Ronson's jazzy arraignment.

Derek hums, taking a bite. “You really do have the most eclectic music taste.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow at him. “I know you’re not insulting Amy Winehouse, the same way you weren’t insulting Salt-N-Pepa.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “I’m not insulting anyone. I’m just saying, it’s very diverse.”

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Feels like you’re insulting them.”

Derek half-heartedly throws his hands in the air, or at least as best as he can without flinging spicy mac and cheese everywhere.

“Jesus Christ—”

“There’s cayenne in here, right?”

“Yeah…?”

“I never eat cayenne. I always thought it’d be too spicy and it would literally burn my tongue, like, third degree burns and I’d have a scarred tongue and I’d never be able to taste again. Hey, do you think Deadpool’s tongue is scarred, too, or just his exterior body? I guess it probably wouldn’t make sense if his tongue was burned, but depending on whether you’re talking about the comics or the movies, because in the comics—”

“ _Stiles_. Take a breath. And Deadpool’s tongue isn’t scarred, that makes no sense. I’m not sure that’s possible.”

“Sure it is. Like if you got acid on your tongue and—”

“The acid would burn right through.”

“You think so?”

“Or you’d die immediately from having ingested acid.”

“No, no, not _ingested_. Just a tiny drop of acid on the tongue. Like, what, in reality, do you think would happen? I’m gonna Google it.”

“Don’t add that to your Google search history, Stiles.”

“The government isn’t watching me right now, we’re fine! Besides, I have much more pressing Google searches than ‘how would acid affect your tongue’.”

“Stiles.”

“Seriously. I was a thirteen-year-old boy who knew about werewolves once upon a time. The things that I have _seen_ —”

“ _Stiles_ , Jesus Christ.”

+++

When Stiles and Derek are getting ready for bed that night, it’s, thankfully, not awkward then, either. It is a bit when Derek hands Stiles clothes, old ones that no longer fit his giant body, because Stiles just stands there, unsure of where to go or how to go about doing this, because they’ve changed in front of each other before, but Stiles will never not be uncomfortable with it.

But Derek just sighs and turns his back to give Stiles a semblance of privacy. He pulls off his shirt and Stiles watches his back muscles ripple for a second before realizing he should probably change clothes, too.

He quickly changes out of his clothes and into the new ones, sending a text to his parents when he’s done because he never did ask them if he could stay at Derek’s, though he’s sure they won’t mind. They text back in the positive, so he sets his phone on Derek’s nightstand and drops his day clothes off on top of his backpack, getting out the phone charger he always carries with him so he can plug his phone in.

Derek then tells him he’s going to brush his teeth so Stiles decides to join him. They get to the bathroom before Stiles realizes he has no toothbrush. He makes a move to put the toothpaste on his finger, but Derek stops him.

“Here,” he says, opening the cabinet and pulling out an unopened toothbrush, like the kind you get from the pediatric dentist. This one has dinosaurs on the red handle, and it actually looks pretty cool. It’s probably one of Theo’s younger twin brother’s toothbrush or something. “Just use this.”

“Thanks.” Stiles takes the toothbrush and pretends this is all normal and opens it, wetting it and putting on the toothpaste so he can brush his teeth.

He and Derek stand side-by-side brushing their teeth in the bathroom mirror and after fifteen seconds or so, it starts to feel too domestic so Stiles starts making funny faces in the bathroom mirror, trying to make Derek laugh. It works a couple of times, and he gets glorious little chortles of laughter, mostly Derek choking on toothpaste, and Stiles saviors it all.

When they’re finished, they return down the hall to Derek’s room. Stiles is still unnaturally tired from doing nothing all day, so he immediately crawls into the middle of the bed and collapses like a starfish, figuring Derek will either tell him to move and go find the spare mattress they have or bodily move him if he needs to.

Derek does just so, climbing into bed and moving around Stiles’ limbs so that Stiles is laying half on top of Derek, who lays flat on his back like a psychopath. But Stiles takes the opportunity to wrap around Derek like a koala, tucking his head under Derek’s chin and wrapping one of his arms around Derek’s middle, intertwining their legs and grinning when Derek jumps at Stiles’ cold toes. Derek puts a hand on Stiles’ back and starts rubbing like he did earlier, and Stiles lets out a contented noise.

Then Derek procures a book out of nowhere and uses his free hand to hold it and starts reading, and Stiles sees this and laughs.

“You’re going to read before you go to sleep, too?” He asks. Derek hums.

“I like reading,” he says, slightly defensively.

“Reading’s cool,” he muses to reassure Derek. Then, “You know, everyone thinks you’re such a cool guy and like all elusive and mysterious and a total badass, probably because you wear this leather jacket, and—but you’re really like this huge teddy bear-wolf-man, who, like, only reads in your free time and nothing else, and sacrifices having dinner with your pack so I don’t have to be lonely and plays my favorite music and rubs my back when I wanna sleep and-and—” He’s losing his point here “—and is a huge dork who can debate Deadpool and understands and makes Macbeth jokes and defaces books with me for the sake of good jokes and thoughts.”

Derek is quiet for just a bit too long and Stiles moves his head to see if Derek’s listening to him. Derek’s staring right at him.

After a moment of too close and too intense eye contact, Derek asks, in the most insecure voice Stiles has ever heard him mutter, “Is that a bad thing?”

Stiles immediately moves so he can bring up both his hands to Derek’s face, regretting making him feel bad, because that was _so_ not his intention.

“No, no, no, no, _no_ , dude, _no_. That’s not a bad thing at all. I personally like the version of you I know and not what everyone else knows. I mean, for a long time, I thought there was only one version of you, the leather jacket one, but, I guess, recently, you made me realize there’s a lot to you that I didn’t know and that’s—that’s really cool. You’re a really cool guy, Derek. Seriously.”

He hopes that word vomit suffices, because he didn’t really mean to blurt out any of _that_ either, but here he is.

But it looks like it works, because Derek’s face softens and he leans forward and Stiles’ heart leaps into his throat and then there’s a stubbled cheek rubbing against his, but that position can’t possibly be comfortable for Derek’s neck, so Stiles instead leans down so Derek can lay flat again and rubs his own face against Derek’s, loving the drag and burn of the stubble against his skin and hating himself for enjoying it as much as he does.

He drops one of his hands to the side of Derek’s neck, the other sliding across his back underneath him and holding onto his shoulder. Stiles hears the book in Derek’s hand hit the bed as his other hand comes up to hold the back of Stiles’ head lightly, a gentle touch if anything.

_If I move over a couple of inches, we’d be kissing_ , he thinks. _If I just leaned over a bit, we would be making out._

But he doesn’t, despite all of his instincts telling him to move. He drags his cheek against Derek’s, presses their foreheads together, brushes their noses together. It’s all so unbelievably sensual and charged, like there’s a high voltage of electricity running through the air. Stiles has never felt anything like it.

But then, suddenly, he doesn’t have to worry about moving, because Derek is making the decision for him. Derek captures his lips the next time he goes to move and Stiles can’t help but immediately moan into his mouth, pleasantly surprised and confused by this shocking turn of events. Derek’s hand pushes a little harder on Stiles’ head, holding him more firmly in place, but Stiles doesn’t mind the pressure at all. He starts moving against Derek, opening his mouth and sharing breaths with Derek when they run out of air, hands roaming all over each other, grabbing, touching everything available.

It’s not like any kiss Stiles has ever had. And, granted, he’s kissed, like, two people when he was thirteen and then never again, because of, mainly, how wrong the kisses felt. It’s like Stiles knew that he was waiting for this, knew deep down that this is how it’s supposed to feel.

Because it feels like… Like… Stiles doesn’t even know how to describe it. It feels like late afternoons in the clearings of the Preserve with all the wolf cubs running around, the adults chasing after them. It feels like telling Derek he’s worth more than what Stiles originally thought, and that he likes it that way. It feels like touching him, it feels like the bond and holding onto it. It feels like video games when they were younger, Stiles showing Derek comic books while he reads his novels, swimming in the lake, seeing Derek for the first time in a grocery store when they’re four-years-old and the realization that he’ll never love anybody the way he’s going to love Derek, the way he _loves_ Derek.

There’s a clattering somewhere in the room and the sound of what might be books falling, but Stiles can’t be bothered right now. He swings his leg so that he’s straddling Derek, feeling both of Derek’s hands come down to tightly grip his thighs. He rocks into Derek, just to test the waters, and is thrilled when Derek groans deeply, but doesn’t get to revel in the sound for very long before Derek is pulling away from his mouth.

“Stiles, Stiles,” he pants, hands sliding up to grip his waist, briefly sliding across Stiles’ ass and driving him further insane. Derek uses his grip to bring their hips apart a bit.

Stiles gasps for air with him, deciding whatever Derek is saying is probably gonna be important. Like whether or not Stiles has a condom or any lube, which he might, he’d have to check his bag to be sure. God, he really hopes he still does.

“Y-yeah?”

“We can’t have—we can’t… We just can’t,” he says, and Stiles sits up a little because how can Derek—the one who initiated this, for no good goddamn reason—be stopping this _now_? His brain isn’t entirely working properly right now.

“What?” He asks dumbly. He sits up more, mindful not to sit on Derek’s lap because that would apparently be counterproductive. “You don’t want—”

“I do, I do want.” Derek props himself up on his elbows, hands sliding back down to land on Stiles’ hips, like he just can’t stop himself from touching Stiles, which is a nice thought. “That’s the problem, is that I want this. But we can’t—please, I can’t—”

Stiles shakes his head. “No, no, it’s—it’s okay, I understand. You can’t; I’m not gonna, like, pressure you or anything like an asshole. Uh, was it—was it because I—”

Derek sits up all the way suddenly, causing Stiles to fall further into a seated position on Derek’s thighs. Derek grabs Stiles’ shoulders, looking into his eyes.

“It isn’t because of you. I promise, it’s not because of you. It’s—it’s me, it’s just something I—” He cuts himself off and shakes his head, looking a little distressed. “I can’t.”

Stiles hesitates for a moment before putting his hands on Derek’s chest, but Derek seems to welcome the move, or perhaps not notice that it’s happening at all. Stiles is hoping it’s the former.

“The… Kissing wasn’t bad? I haven’t—” He laughs a little self-deprecatingly. “I’ve only kissed, like, two people and those were little pecks, you know? Not—not like _that_.”

Derek wraps his arms around Stiles and lays back down, pulling Stiles to lay pretty much on top of him. He pulls the covers back up around them and situates them how they were before Derek attacked his face. He rubs at Stiles’ back, the other hand stroking his arm, his book lost somewhere further down the bed.

“Well, I’ve only kissed one person, so you already have more experience than I have. Well, two people, now.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? You’ve only kissed one other person? I thought you’d be, like, all experienced and whatever.”

Derek scrunches up his nose at the suggestion and shakes his head. Stiles lets himself bring up his hand and smooth out the winkles in between Derek’s brow.

He doesn’t know why he’s being allowed this right now, but he’s not going to screw it up.

“Not really. All my experience comes from books,” Derek mutters. Stiles laughs.

“Spoken like a true bookworm. You’re quite the nerd, Mr. Hale,” Stiles grins. Derek looks at him, judging his expression, probably seeing if there’s any malice there, before his face softens into a smile.

“‘All the best people are’,” Derek quotes and Stiles quite literally can’t help himself when he leans up and kisses Derek.

Derek kisses back, a chaste little thing, but it still manages to fill Stiles’ stomach and heart with butterflies.

“You gotta stop that,” Stiles warns, not saying what exactly he has to stop or why, because he doesn’t really know himself. Derek just smiles against his lips.

“Go to sleep, Stiles,” he instructs, which is grossly unfair considering what’s all just happened, but he sighs and moves down so he can rest his head on Derek’s chest.

Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, it doesn’t take long before he’s asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it happened. i hope i have done it justice.
> 
> this is just a super fluffy chapter filled with love and only a little bit of plot, i hope you all enjoy! i had a LOT of fun writing it and playing with the characters!
> 
> i originally kept pushing the kiss off and off until the end because i wanted to keep the suspense going and then i was like what for??? like why keep pushing it off when i could easily write it in and then work the story from there. and there's still plenty of story left and stuff to go through so this is just the beginning. (i hope it's not obvious by kissing experience is rather limited and has only been a smattering of pecks. i've read a lot of fics and books describing great kisses and i tried to work off that, so i hope it actually makes sense lmao sorry in advance)
> 
> stiles' music taste is exclusively inspired by my own, and i personally describe it as eclectic. also his grandma's name is sonia because i have my abuelita sonja who makes her mexican mac and cheese, which is what the hales' spicy mac and cheese recipe is inspired by, and it's definitely a family secret, though i wouldn't be surprised if someone shared the recipe with stiles
> 
> yes, derek leaning in before he goes downstairs was him leaning in to kiss stiles before he realized what he was doing and pulled away. i just have to confirm that, because i feel like that's exactly something that would happen to the two of them, especially with stiles being oblivious as to what derek was doing
> 
> anyway, that's all for this special update. i really hope you all enjoyed this extra bit of fluff i had left over from last chapter that i just couldn't fit in last update, i hope it makes some of you happy! i know the slow burn is aggravating, and there's still a long way to go and a lot for them to do and say, but we're finally making headway! thank you all for your support! i love seeing your comments and theories! sorry for a long end note lol but thank you again! <33


	14. turn on like lightning, spark up a fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is that a hickey?!"
> 
> Stiles immediately slaps a hand to his neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i want to apologize because i feel like some of y'all are gonna be mad at me but we are making progress, okay? just remember that.
> 
> also sorry this is late, not really late but you know, and sorry it's short, busy week for me!
> 
> chapter title comes from "you do you" by zayde wolf

When Stiles wakes up, that’s when the panic sets in.

He opens his eyes and realizes he’s more or less in the position he fell asleep in, head pooled on Derek’s chest, snuggled in close. He lifts his head, spots Derek, and immediately all the memories of the night prior come rushing back to the surface.

Did Derek even like him? That’s his biggest concern, because maybe, for that whole thing, Stiles was just a warm mouth and Derek did say that he’s only ever kissed one person besides Stiles, so maybe Derek thought it was high time he experimented and it seemed like Stiles was a viable option because he was closest or he’s, like, legally bound to as Derek’s mate, which sounds horrible and is not at all how it works, but Stiles can’t think of any real reason why Derek kissed him.

And isn’t that all he wanted? Like, honestly, this is what he’s been waiting for and he knows he should just take it and run with it and dare not look back, but he can’t. He can’t, in good conscience, pretend that this is normal or okay.

Because Derek doesn’t like him like that, there’s no way. He was confused and he kissed him in that confusion and when he wakes up, he’ll go back to regular Derek, who is surly and loves to read books and has a secret soft side that Stiles never knew about, but he won’t show it much to Stiles because that’s how their relationship is supposed to be.

Stiles isn’t going to let his emotions or any regretful actions—even if they didn’t feel regretful at the time and still don’t—cloud his judgment or change the carefully crafted relationship he has with Derek. There’s already too much changing, with everything happening with the Alpha and the shadows and Scott being bitten and Lydia being a banshee, it’s all too much input. He can’t handle any more changes, especially not with something steady like his and Derek’s tentative relationship.

But… He’s weak. He’s horribly, terribly, awfully weak and he just can’t help himself.

He wants Derek. He _wants_ Derek. In every regard. And he knows that would never work out, ever. But he can’t help but lay there, propped up on his elbows, in the middle of a slight breakdown, and stare at how beautiful and peaceful Derek is.

And he can’t help but reach a finger out and gently trace Derek’s cheekbone. And when Derek doesn’t even stir, he figures, why deny himself this, when he’s already going to be denying himself everything else.

He carefully traces Derek’s face, running his finger up across his forehead, smoothing out the perpetual wrinkle between his brow that’s somehow present even though he’s sleeping, running down his nose, following the skin under his eyes. He touches him with reverence and care, because this is the first and last time he’ll be allowed this. Rubbing faces, or, rather, the scent marking thing they did last night pre-kiss, was a lot of stimulation and also something Stiles did not think he’d ever do with Derek, or get a chance to do, because it was dangerously intimate. This right here, this tracing and touching, this is dangerously intimate as well, and Stiles honestly feels like a thief for stealing these touches from Derek, touching him without his permission like this when not too long ago he swore he wouldn’t do that. He’s a hypocrite, what’s new.

But this is his convoluted way of saying goodbye to the acts of last night and the fallacy of a relationship they were pretending they had. He allows himself this because he doesn’t want to say goodbye to Derek, but he knows he has to. And, realistically, he could never leave Derek—neither their bond nor their families would ever really allow them to be out of each other’s lives—but Stiles would straight up not want to. Because Derek is surly and a grump and for the longest time seemed to hate Stiles before a dam broke within him and he was suddenly very comfortable with the idea of Stiles in his personal space, but he’s also the person Stiles trusts probably more than anyone, which is a bit shocking. Derek, unwillingly, knows just about every secret there is to know about Stiles, more than Scott or Theo or Lydia, though admittedly not by far. But Derek is his person, the bond made it that way, and Stiles’ determination to at least be Derek’s kind of friend and Derek’s admittedly winning personality, barbs and all, furthered this, turned it into something more expansive than just some soul bond, something even deeper and more profound.

Derek is Stiles’ person, but Stiles isn’t Derek’s.

He thinks, maybe one day, he can learn to be okay with that.

For now, though, it’s a dagger in his heart, a festering wound he can’t seem to teal. For now, it hurts more than anything in this world, his biggest nightmare, his darkest fear.

Stiles leans forward and kisses Derek’s stubbly cheek as softly as he can. He’d love to kiss his lips, but that’s kind of bordering on weird territory for him—granted, this is all weird—and he’s trying to be as respectful of Derek’s boundaries as he can be.

But he’s messed up, because suddenly Derek is stirring and Stiles panics and burrows into Derek’s chest, pulling his limbs back and trying to arrange them so he looks normal and not at all like he was being a total creep.

Derek’s hands move and one rubs at Stiles’ back as he makes a light groaning noise, the usual sounds of stirring into consciousness. Stiles tries to lay still, even though he’s sure Derek can hear his rabbiting heartbeat and that’s easily gonna blow his whole cover. He’s confident his look and energy are screaming _I was just doing something I wasn’t supposed to be doing_ right now.

But then there’s a nose nuzzling at Stiles’ hairline, hands rubbing so slowly against his back and arms that he thinks the molasses movements might actually kill him, and a cheek or a nose rubbing against the top of his head.

It’s almost like the movements Stiles was doing, which is why it’s so weird to Stiles, that Derek is replicating it. Was he awake? Stiles didn’t think so, but maybe he was. Is this some sort of payback or something? Cosmic karma, he doesn’t know, but he can’t take it.

He moves, shifting his limbs in that awkward way you do when you first wake up, and Derek’s hands still, face moving away. Stiles shifts some more before opening his eyes and looking blearily up at Derek, heart still pounding rather hard.

“Good morning,” he says, praying they can just be normal for a quick second before it gets weird. Derek, thankfully, indulges him.

“G’morning,” Derek replies, voice thick with sleep and deep and scratchy, which is, _wow_ , a lot for Stiles to handle right now.

Speaking of things that are a lot to handle, Stiles is a teenage boy and therefore has teenage boy needs and situations happen to him that are typical or expected of a teenage boy. Coupled with his reliving last night, he’s having some… _Issues_ downstairs and absolutely does not want to subject Derek to this.

God, that would not be good. Last night was clearly a fluke and Derek doesn’t need any reminders of it. Stiles needs to extract himself from this situation _immediately_.

Stiles lets the normalcy slide past them with a mental wave of his hand and shifts, trying to carefully get off of Derek with making this anymore awkward than it’s going to inevitably be. He pointedly makes sure his lower half is not touching Derek at all.

“Right, so, I’m just gonna—” Stiles cuts himself off, slipping out of bed and making sure his back is turned toward Derek before he makes his great escape into the hallway.

Unfortunately, his luck runs out because he runs almost smack dab into Theo, of all people. He curses whatever God is up above as she reaches out to steady him.

“Whoa, Stilinski, where you off in a rush to?”

Stiles shifts minutely out of discomfort and Theo catches it immediately. She inhales and then starts gagging, laughing as she does.

“Ew, Jesus, Stiles! You reek!” She then grins wolfishly at him, leering teasingly. “Going to take care of some business?”

Stiles huffs and pushes past her without a word.

“What, Derek can’t help you out?” She calls at his retreating back and he makes a silent promise to learn how to skin her.

He doesn’t want to take care of his issue in the bathroom because there are countless werewolves who use this bathroom, Derek and Theo being two of the bigger issues. Theo would tease him relentlessly and Derek… Well, he just doesn’t want to have to deal with that.

It takes some time and some of his worst thoughts—his parents having sex, Finstock in a lacy thong, Finstock having sex, Finstock having sex _while_ in a lacy thong—in order for him to calm down, but he gets there. He brushes his teeth with the dinosaur toothbrush and pees and heads back to Derek’s room, proud of himself because he’s pretty confident that he didn’t take very long, granted he had no way of measuring the time because he left his phone charging in Derek’s room.

He gets back to Derek’s room—really, in record time—and sees him getting clothes out of his drawers, back to Stiles. Stiles doesn’t say anything when he comes in, but he knows Derek hears the door open, and Stiles’ heartbeat, surely. Derek then turns, clothing strategically placed in front of his crotch, and blushes and exits without a word.

Huh.

Stiles decides not to wait around for Derek and his bizarre ways and grabs his phone and the moonstone from his jeans pocket. Then he sees two piles of Derek’s books knocked to the ground, which is weird, because Stiles knows for a fact that those were standing upright yesterday.

He distinctly remembers hearing a clattering last night and wonders if this was it. Was it from what broke his window, too? Wait, no, because he broke his window.

Wait…

He shakes his head. No, no way. He couldn’t’ve done that. He turns around and leaves the books where they are and heads downstairs.

When Stiles gets to the kitchen, the main thought coursing through his head is _are they gonna know Derek and I kissed?_ And: _That he had a momentary lapse in judgment and kissed me?_ And: _Is that written all over my face?_

But, apparently, there is a little luck left in the world, and it’s used for right now, because no one says that at all. No one seems to know anything of the sort, which Stiles is unbelievably pleased about.

Talia is cooking, which is slightly unusual since she typically lets the others cook except for Chicken Nugget Tuesdays and spicy mac and cheese and occasionally some breakfast foods, but apparently this is her occasional breakfast, because she’s frying eggs, chatting aimlessly with Theo’s mom, Rhea, and her other brother Gabriel, who’s Theo’s dad. Other members of the Hale family are strewn about: here’s Derek’s aunts making pancakes in a pan beside Talia and bickering with each other; Laura’s husband Thomas is pouring out juice for the little kids, Theo’s twin younger brothers Otis and Oliver at the forefront, waiting for their juice; Laura and Grant are setting the table and talking about one of Grant’s classes that Laura clearly doesn’t actually understand but is trying to be interest in anyway; Theo sits on the edge of the table and ignores Grant when he tries to set a placemat down; Red sits at the table doing his crossword with Malia and Cora sitting on either side of him, both texting and occasionally glancing over his shoulder or giving him a word. It’s chaotic and messy and screams _loving family_ so loud that it makes Stiles’ chest ache with the love and familiarity he feels for each and every person here.

“Stiles,” Derek’s aunt June says when she sees him. She waves him over. “Come, come! Come cook with us!”

This is something that Stiles loves about the Hales. They always cook food, never eating out. Stiles thinks it’s because of the way processed food tastes or something like that, but he admires the Hales regardless, for always having something cooking.

“We might have the ingredients for kielbasa, if you’re interested in making it for us!” Aunt Mabel says.

“Oh, hush, he doesn’t want to have to go to all that trouble! Just let him cook with us!”

“It’s not any trouble and he knows it! Don’t you, boy?”

“Stop it, Mabel! Let him be!”

“I’m not doing anything!”

The two of them are married and have been for over thirty years, which seems long for humans but is rather short for werewolves, and they bicker the way cats and dogs fight, and speak often in exclamations, either highly excitable, loudly protesting, or angrily. Aunt June, Juniper, is Talia’s younger sister, and both she and Mabel are werewolves, though are incredibly docile and hardly ever shift, preferring to knit or paint or read in their armchairs, like the little old ladies they’re going to turn into. And they both absolutely adore Stiles, doting on him the way a great aunt would, even though they hardly look old enough to be treating him that way.

“Both of you, quit bickering like old hens,” Talia snaps, not rudely, but just to quiet the noise. June and Mabel close their mouths and go back to cooking pancakes, quiet for just a moment before they start softly arguing again.

Talia smiles at Stiles and gestures for him to come closer.

“You cook eggs, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

Talia hands over her spatula. “Take over for me, give my hands a break.”

Stiles takes it and starts playing with the eggs, taking note of how Rhea and Gabe are leaning over the counter right beside him, and of how Rhea is looking at him.

He goes to ask her what’s up when Talia says, “You spent the night with Derek.”

There’s a heavy intonation in the sentence. The conversation in the big room dins and Stiles can see out of the corner of his eye Cora, Laura, and Theo all turn towards him in interest, all looking devious. Stiles flips an egg and thinks that, no, there isn’t any luck left and that he is just going to be repeatedly shat on and that’s his life.

“Um, y-yeah, no, I-I slept in his room,” he tries to explain.

“It smells like you slept in his bed,” Cora supplies helpfully.

“Rubbing yourself on him,” Theo offers, and he can hear the smirk in her voice, the little shit.

“Okay, that’s not—” Stiles feels his face go red and when he glances around, all of the adult werewolves are paying close attention to him. None look mad, necessarily, in fact there’s a lot of smiling, happy faces, but Stiles can’t—because it’s not like—he’s not, okay, it’s just _not_.

“It’s not like that,” he tries, but it’s weak because he and Derek are literally supposed to be bonded, so it’s expected to be like that, but he’s not going to say it is because when they ask Derek—and they will, they’re absolute vultures—he’s going to say that it’s never been like that, last night’s kissing escapade aside, because he doesn’t hold anything back and that’s going to be awkward and potentially heartbreaking for Stiles and by potentially, he means undoubtedly.

“It seems like it’s a little like that,” Laura teases with a grin on her face. And then gasps loudly. “Is that a hickey?!”

Stiles immediately slaps a hand to his neck, even though he’s fairly certain Derek never quite kissed him there, and everyone bursts into peals of laughter. Stiles blushes deeper and waves an angry hand at them.

“Shut up! Jesus Christ,” he mutters, turning back to the eggs and trying to drown them out.

“And sharing clothes, too, Stiles!” One of the girls, though he’s not sure which one, comments. He angrily flips another egg.

A few seconds later, there’s some feet pounding on the kitchen staircase and Derek comes into the room, freshly showered and ready for the day and looking slightly concerned already.

“Ah, the culprit!” Theo croons. “Derek, do you have any idea who left that stubble burn on Stiles? We can’t quite crack this case.”

She grins madly as Derek looks over at Stiles, the tiniest of sheepish expressions growing on his face. But for Derek, that’s practically like spilling out all the dirty details of the night—not that anything was particularly dirty—and it just makes the trio of girls laugh that much harder.

“Derek, show some restraint!” Laura mock gasps.

“Oh, please, he can never restrain himself when Stiles is around!” Cora snickers.

Derek turns red and, fucking finally, an adult steps in.

“Girls, knock it off,” Talia snaps, red bleeding into her eyes. The trio immediately stop laughing and get shameful looks on their faces. “Apologize to the boys.”

“I’m sorry,” they all blurt out in weirdly organized unison.

Talia turns to address Derek and Stiles.

“Boys, it’s okay that—”

“Mom, don’t,” Derek says, looking a little bit like he’s pleading. He flicks up his eyebrows while looking at his mom and then gestures his head toward Stiles, but it’s not smooth enough and Stiles catches it and then Derek catches Stiles watching him and then Stiles looks away quickly because he’s burning the eggs and this whole family breakfast has suddenly turned into a shitshow.

But someone clears their throat and the conversation quickly resumes like it had never ceased and Derek takes a seat at the table beside his dad after glaring Cora out of her seat and Stiles keeps making eggs, nobody complaining about the burnt smell permeating the room, because he literally does not want to do anything besides this right now.

They manage to make a nice spread and get it all set out at the breakfast table that’s meant for ten, so about half the family go into the dining room or the sunroom to eat their breakfast. But Talia’s children and Red and Thomas sit at the breakfast table, with Stiles and Theo and Malia, Theo’s parents and brothers banished to another room with June and Mabel and everyone else, Peter being sequestered God knows where.

Stiles pointedly sits next to Theo, even though she was the one giving him a hard time, and he makes sure to “accidentally” elbow her a couple of times for good measure, which she glares at him for but takes, probably because she’s maybe slightly apologetic and a werewolf, so it’s not like he’s actually hurting her.

Talia and Red start up an easy conversation about their jobs while Thomas gets Grant talking about some weird club at Grant’s school, Laura pulling Malia in to talk about high school and how trite it is. Cora drops her fists on the table, not very hard, but enough to get the attention of those sitting closest to her, which happens to be Derek, Theo, and Stiles.

“I say we have a party,” she announces.

“A party? While the Pack is in town?” Derek asks, a look of _you’ve got to be shitting me_ written on his face.

“Yeah! Well, no, actually, more like a bonfire, but with our friends.”

“Oh, so, you mean you want a chance to cuddle around a bonfire with Lydia?” Theo clarifies.

“Or Isaac?” Stiles questions. Theo makes a humming noise and taps her finger to her chin, like she’s thinking it over, really contemplating.

Cora waves her hands in front of both their faces like she’s washing the thoughts away. “Okay, okay, shut up. My point is, it’d be cool to get together. Like everything’s been shit recently and we haven’t all hung out since this whole thing started. I just thought it’d be cool.”

“It’s not even cold enough to have a bonfire. It’d be a somewhat warm night with a bonfire going, that doesn’t make much sense,” Derek points out.

“Jesus fuck, forget I asked!” Cora throws her hands up. Talia glares at her.

“Language,” she chides. Cora makes a pouting face.

“It sounds like it’d be fun,” Theo says, shrugging a shoulder as she stabs at her eggs that are covered in hot sauce. It’s a combination Stiles used to think was weird, but he’s gotten strangely used to spicy foods recently, like in the last few months, and now he kind of digs it. He steals a bite off her plate and she pretends to stab him with her fork.

“I agree,” Derek chimes in. “Maybe it’s what we all need to take the edge off.” He glances at Stiles.

Cora coughs something under her breath like, “Oh, I’m sure you two would find some other way to take the edge off,” but Stiles isn’t sure. He blushes anyway and Derek stomps on her foot, causing her to yip and elbow him, so he figures it doesn’t matter what she said.

Then he realizes everyone’s waiting for his response. And does he wanna go out to a clearing in the woods and make a bonfire when it’s nighttime and there are things that are actively chasing after Stiles and have made their intentions pretty damn clear? The scratches on his arm still haven’t fully healed, close but not yet, and that scratch on his face is all gone now, but that one part of his arm still looks slightly ashy and charred and does he really wanna risk doing that again?

No, actually, he doesn’t. He especially doesn’t wanna put any more people at risk. The last time he went out into the woods with one of his friends— _human_ friends—he came back a werewolf. And, yeah, the Hales are werewolves—and werecoyote in Malia’s sake—and Scott’s a werewolf and Kira’s a kitsune and Erica and Boyd are werewolves and Lydia’s a banshee apparently… Well, huh, okay, so his friends are more supernatural than he thought, but Allison’s still a human, and Jackson and Danny and Isaac, and that’s four people, four innocent humans—well, mostly innocent on Jackson’s part—who have the potential to get hurt. Not to mention that Stiles has no idea what a nalusa chito can do to a werewolf, or another supernatural creature, and if the Alpha werewolf comes out? They’re all screwed. They got _lucky_ when that Alpha bit Scott and ran away, lucky that that’s all that happened, that it didn’t tear Scott to pieces and eat him and make Stiles watch. Or what if it had gotten Stiles, like it tried to? What then? Would Stiles’ spark have saved him? Would he have been a spark-werewolf-hybrid? Is that a thing?

He realizes that everyone’s still waiting for him to spark and he’s been silent for far too long. He jumps into action.

“Oh, um, I-I don’t know…” Stiles starts.

Cora pouts and makes her eyes big in that way that little sisters do when they really want something, that one way that’s hard to resist.

And Cora’s basically his little sister. He’s known her since he was four, when he first met Derek obviously, only a year younger than the two of them and persistently a world of trouble. But he’s always been there for her: first day of school, first period, first heartbreak, which came surprisingly early and was really hard to deal with, especially because Stiles had no idea what he was talking about. Only a year apart and he’s watched this girl grow up into the absolute terror that she is today, but he loves her regardless and he’d do anything for her, especially when she turns those big brown eyes on him.

(He thinks, if he ever has a daughter, he’s going to be absolutely screwed. Ooh, especially if she has those miraculous Hale eyes like Derek has.)

“Oh, please, Stiles! Come on! I promise everything will be okay!”

“Cora, if he doesn’t want to—” Derek starts, but Stiles interrupts him.

“No, no, uh… It’s okay. I mean, as long as we take the necessary precautions, right?” Cora nods emphatically. “And when I say we leave, we GTFO, okay?”

Cora grabs his hand across the table, squeezing it and grinning madly. “Yes, yes, of course, I promise!” She takes her hands back and immediately pulls out her phone.

While Cora types away, Derek looks at Stiles, concern etched on his face.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asks.

Hot and cold, Stiles thinks. One minute they’re arguing, one minute they’re okay, one minute they’re making out in Derek’s bed late at night, one minute they’re awkward and Derek doesn’t want him, one minute Derek is asking if he’s okay like a concerned boyfriend, which he’s not, definitely nothing like boyfriends, Stiles thinks that that’s been made abundantly clear.

He nods. “Yeah, no, it’ll be fine. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

He hopes this doesn’t come back to bite him in the ass, figuratively or literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this is a bit short, i have so much going on with my summer school and all these deadlines so these next like three chapters may be a bit short. i apologize in advance!
> 
> i just feel like stiles would be so awkward about the kiss and keep doubting himself and derek's feelings toward him. i know that seems counter-productive, but i promise it'll all make sense later and they will work it out!
> 
> awkward morning afters and lead ups to bonfires and whatnot, i really don't have much to say for this chapter, but it's coming together! enjoy!


	15. oh, this is just my luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But he tries to think positive, because it's most likely going to be fine.
> 
> It'll be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> agh i'm sorry this is short too, especially with what's going on, please don't hate me!
> 
> also no one dies! i feel like i should say that just as a warning, before y'all panic. absolutely no deaths! just canon-typical violence
> 
> chapter title comes from "shots" by imagine dragons (the young professionals remix specifically)

They decide to hold it that afternoon, before the sun fully sets, but only right before. It’s basically a potluck, so Cora tells everyone to bring what they can, including drinks and camping chairs. Surprisingly, they all are able to come on such short notice, though Danny’s parents need some convincing, which Jackson, not so shockingly, provides.

(Which, they don’t necessarily want Jackson to come, not that they’d turn him away ever, but he always has a way of being a complete ass. How Danny persistently stands him remains a mystery. But Isaac was the one who wanted Danny there, though they all wanted Danny there, and Danny and Jackson are sort of a package deal now, even if no one is allowed to ask what they are, so they’re all just going to have to deal.)

They’re only going into a clearing that’s not too far from the Hale House. The wolves inside should be able to hear them for most of the night if not all of it, provided the Hales stay on the first floor of the house, and they’re not allowed to stay out too late.

Talia was hesitant about letting them go, too, and when Stiles went home to change and tell his parents, they were a bit skeptical as well, but Stiles insisted that it was going to be fine, even if he doesn’t feel that way, and they trust him, which is nice.

They also probably think he’s more advanced with his spark training than he is, because that’s kind of what he’s been leading them to believe. Claudia doesn’t as much train him to use his spark as she does teach and tell him about it, and that’s on occasion, not really a constant thing. The block that he had before, he’s practically told her he’s gotten over it when he really hasn’t, and has dodged all of her attempts to get him to show her.

Which, if either of his parents talked to Deaton, Stiles knows Deaton would not lie to them and would tell them that Stiles’ training is going absolutely nowhere. Stiles can’t seem to figure any of this shit out and he’s supposed to be making all this progress, but he just… Can’t make it work, he just can’t.

And Deaton constantly telling him to just breathe and _feel_ the magic flowing through him isn’t fucking helping.

So maybe his parents think he’s going out there with some defensive or even offensive magic under his belt, and Stiles wishes that were the case, but he’ll really be out there on his own.

Well, not on his own because of the werewolves, but Stiles can’t let anything happen to any of them. Not because of him. He wouldn’t be able to live with that.

But he tries to think positive, because it’s most likely going to be fine. The Hales are right there at the house, there are a bunch of wolves with him, chiefly Derek, who’s easily the strongest of his wolfy friends—under Talia and Laura, of course—and a sort-of banshee who hasn’t come into her powers yet and a kitsune and a werecoyote, so he’s probably fine.

It’ll be fine.

+++

They get the bonfire all set up so that they don’t set fire to the forest floor below, and Derek brings out like four chairs on his own with Malia following him with the last one and they start setting them in a loose circle around the bonfire and get their snacks.

Everyone shows up in small groups. Scott and Allison show up toting the cooler, though it’s more like Scott abusing his werewolf strength probably to impress Allison by carrying it easily like it weighs nothing with their chairs slung over his shoulder, while Allison holds two paper bags in her hands, dimpling beautifully at everyone. Kira shows up on her lonesome, but she has Japanese and Korean snacks that she’s very excited about and shares immediately with Malia, setting up their chairs right next to each other. Lydia shows up with Jackson and Danny, talking to Danny about someone from school while Jackson holds their chairs and Danny carries some snack bags, Lydia’s arms free of burden. Isaac, Erica, and Boyd appear as a unit, Boyd and Isaac carrying chairs and their snacks while Erica carries a second cooler. It’s a lot of food and drinks, but they’re teenagers and will probably make their way through most of, if not all of, the snacks anyway.

Erica’s also brought a speaker and plays her old jams, music that is perfectly Stiles’ taste and that he can groove to. Everyone gets set up in their spots, hugging and exchanging greetings and laughing. Stiles, admittedly, is worried about the noise levels and expresses this to Erica, who knows what’s been going on, to an extent, as most the remaining pack members know.

“Oh, it’s fine, Stilinski. Here, if it bugs you so much, I’ll turn it down a smidge, okay?’ She turns down the music a couple notches and Stiles personally still thinks it’s too loud, but he nods his head.

“Okay, okay. Thank you, Catwoman.”

Erica beams. “You’re welcome, Batman.”

And it goes more or less good. Cora very obviously flirts with Lydia, which puts an end to that debate, and Theo brings out the s’more skewers and Allison and Lydia have the graham crackers, chocolate, and marshmallows. Jackson’s not a complete douche for once in his life, though it might have something to do with the quiet hand Danny keeps pressed to his back. Scott and Allison are grossly adorable and giggling to themselves, completely oblivious to everything bad in the world. Theo, Malia, and Kira are in some debate that looks heated, but that Stiles is pretty sure is about Marvel. Isaac and Erica have a s’more eating contest that Boy monitors and Derek crowns the victor (Erica, obviously).

Derek smiles warmly at him when their eyes meet, and Stiles feels a pull in his gut, the mating bond, he thinks. He smiles back at Derek, tries to feel normal about this all.

Stiles moves from group of group, chatting with everyone for a couple of minutes before moving on to the next group, making sure everyone is safe and having a good time. He can’t help but be a mother hen right now, he’s too worried, even with the moonstone tucked safely in his pocket.

And apparently it’s justified, because right as everything is going good and Stiles is trying to relax and getting a drink from the cooler, he hears… Something.

It’s not like a chittering, not a growling, but something similar to the two of them. Something almost like… Rumbling, an ominous rumbling that fills his brain and his heart with fear and dread.

_Oh God, no._

Stiles promptly freaks the fuck out and rushes over to Cora, keeping an eye on the tree line. He slaps her repeatedly on the shoulder until she turns around to face him, glaring.

“What the fuck, Stilinski?” she demands, moving her shoulder so he can’t hit her anymore.

“Cora, Cora, we have to go, we have to—”

“Stiles, what are you talking about?” She looks more frustrated.

He looks at her dead on. “It’s here, Cora. It’s here. Can’t you hear it?”

Cora stares at him for a moment like he’s crazy before shaking her head.

“I don’t hear anything, Stiles, except your heartbeat going wild. You better calm down or Derek is gonna freak.”

“Cora—!” He starts, but just as he’s about to speak, the rumbling goes quiet, the whole woods going almost silent, Erica’s speaker turning off. Stiles’ eyes widen and he takes a step back, frantically looking around. Everyone slowly starts to look around as well, confused.

There’s a lone owl screech and the hair on the back of Stiles’ neck stands up. He opens his mouth to say something, to call for Derek, to scream for Talia, when there’s a loud snarl and something comes bounding out of the trees.

Stiles tries to shove Cora out of the way, but it’s not coming for him. It barrels into Isaac, who’s standing in front of Jackson, and bites down before anyone can do anything, Isaac screaming in pain. Between one breath and the next, it lets go of Isaac and shoves him to the side with its body, before lunging forward and biting Jackson, who’s trying to scramble backwards, Danny attempting to pull him to his feet.

It’s the Alpha.

God, Stiles knew it. He _knew it._

They should’ve listened to him, why didn’t they—no. That’s not going to do any good. Now, he needs to focus on the werewolf, focus on helping his friends.

All the wolves are shifted in the next second, Derek moving immediately to stand in front of Stiles, Scott moving in front of Allison.

With Jackson and Isaac down—both moving, but still bitten regardless—everyone else is on the defensive. Kira gets into a fighting stance and Malia snarls, shifting into her Beta form as well, where she can do more damage than fully shifted. Cora goes to grab Lydia and pull her behind her, but something knocks into Cora and sends her sprawling to the ground.

A shadow.

It slams into Stiles and sends him flying backwards, Derek snarling wildly, trying to keep both eyes on the nalusa chito and the Alpha.

(Both out, why are they both out? How are they both here? That doesn’t make any sense—)

Stiles doesn’t go too far, just over the chairs and falls into the leaves and twigs, more shocked than actually hurt. If both the nalusa chito and the Alpha are here together, then something bad is going on. Something really bad.

There’s a deep growl and Lydia screams, so loud and piercing that Stiles has to scramble to cover his ears. He can’t see anything from his position on the ground so he hurries to his feet, the screaming dying in his ears.

He sees Lydia on the ground, the Alpha standing above her, blood dripping from its maw. Cora snarls and jumps to attack it, but Derek holds her back.

“Go check on Stiles!” He commands. Cora fights him a bit more, but he just restrains her with one hand, eyes shining gold. “Go!”

Cora relents with a growl and starts to move toward Stiles, but he quickly jogs back in the circle towards them just as the Alpha roars, at Derek oddly enough, though Stiles doesn’t entirely know why, and goes bounding off again, disappearing into the night.

To everyone’s credit, they’re not freaking out about the shadow monster that’s still playing on the edges of their visions, darting past them, or the mythical werewolf that just bit three of their friends for seemingly no good goddamn reason. But they are freaking out about their friends being injured, which is completely understandable.

The werewolves form a circle around everyone, trying to defend them against the nalusa chito. Danny is trying to stop Jackson from bleeding while Kira sits with Isaac, and Malia and Allison with Lydia. Stiles is trying to stop himself from freaking out, but it’s getting pretty hard.

The shadow dances between them, reaching out and slashing if anyone gets too close to it, which means now Scott and Erica are sporting nice ashy wounds like the one Stiles had, although theirs seem to be healing somewhat like normal, if not a bit slower. But no one can really touch the shadow, can get close enough, and it’s like it’s boxing them in.

Then, Theo throws her head back and starts to howl, but is cut short by the shadow picking her up and throwing her. She hits a tree and there’s a distinct _crack!_ before she falls to the ground, crying out.

Stiles sees red. Enough is enough.

“Get the hell away from my friends!” Stiles shouts, ducking under Derek’s arm and, on instinct, throwing his hands out towards the shadow. Derek calls his name and tries to pull him back, right as the nalusa chito goes flying backward like it’s on a pulley system and there’s a loud almost-booming noise, like something big popping, that has everybody grabbing their ears, and then it’s gone.

Everyone is shocked, especially Derek, who just stares at Stiles like he’s grown a second head.

The effort, that Stiles didn’t even know he could muster, knocks him to his knees and he groans, his head swimming. Derek immediately drops down beside Stiles, wrapping an arm around him.

“Erica, Boyd, go get help! Cora, go check on Theo! Scott, help the others!” Derek barks out commands like he’s their Alpha. He’d be a good one, Stiles thinks, rough around the edges, sure, but good nonetheless.

Stiles allows himself to relax in Derek’s strong arms, wincing as he moves. That really took a lot of out of him, and it’s not like it was a strong move or anything.

But, also, he did that? He managed to send the shadow flying backwards into the forest with whatever force he just used? Nothing’s probably ever been cooler than this realization, though kissing Derek was pretty cool.

“Stop talking,” Derek says and Stiles wasn’t even aware he was talking. Oh God, was all of that aloud?

  
“Yes,” Derek says again and starts poking and prodding at Stiles’ head.

“I don’t have a concussion,” he protests, trying to blindly bat at Derek’s hand. Derek huffs and stops prodding, dropping his hand to Stiles’ arm. Stiles tries to look over Derek’s shoulder. “Is everyone—are they okay?”

Derek glances back and makes a grim face before looking back at Stiles, which isn’t ever a good sign. “Lydia’s not awake. Not rejecting the bite, but not awake. Isaac is lucid and freaking out a bit. I think it’s taking for him. Jackson is…”

Stiles can hear Danny’s cries from here. It makes his blood run cold.

“He’s dead,” he concludes, feeling like he’s gonna throw up. But, thankfully, Derek shakes his head.

“Not dead. Not yet. It looks like his body is rejecting the bite, from what I can see.”

“Can we—is there anything we can do to fix that?”

“Maybe my mom knows something, but… I’m not sure,” Derek admits grimly. Stiles is grateful he’s sitting right now, because otherwise he might have actually fainted or collapsed or something, just from the stress of the evening.

Erica and Boyd come running up a second later, Talia and Laura and a bunch of wolves in tow. She starts barking out orders, the real Alpha, and slowly the wolves take away the three injured parties, Theo’s own parents running over to help her up, which only makes her cry out in pain. Laura comes over to Stiles’ other side and drops down, grabbing one of his arms and counting down for Derek to help lift Stiles up.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” he insists. They get him up anyway, but he only accepts one person’s help to walk, Laura running a hand fondly over his hair before going to find somewhere else to help.

They make it back to the Hale House without another encounter. Talia immediately gets Jackson taken to the study, Deaton coming in from the foyer like he was waiting for Talia to call. They disappear into the study, with Peter tagging along. Laura and Grant are given instructions to see after Isaac and Lydia, taking them to unoccupied rooms, Cora trailing after them. Theo gets taken up to her room, too, and Stiles squeezes her hand as she goes, getting a weak smile in return. Malia disappears with Kira and Erica and Boyd collapse in the family room, Scott and Allison taking the other couch.

Derek doesn’t let Stiles stop, pushing him up the stairs and taking him to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him and sitting him on the bed.

Stiles bursts into tears a second later, cursing himself for not being stronger and cursing himself even more for feeling so weak, for crying, for everything.

Derek sits beside him and wraps an arm around his shoulders, rubbing his arms gently, trying to get him to calm down.

“It’s my fault, I—I should’ve known, I should’ve—”

“You did know, and we didn’t listen to you,” Derek counters. “I knew you didn’t want to and I let it all happen anyway. Cora should’ve listened to you when you told her. You know and we let it happen, Stiles. I’m so sorry. This is our fault.”

“It’s my fault. I should’ve been better, I should’ve done more or-or been able to—I could’ve saved you all from ever having to—”

“Don’t, hey, c’mon,” Derek insists, tugging at Stiles’ hands until they fall from his face. He’s full on ugly crying right now, but he can’t find it in himself to care how he looks in front of Derek, not right now. “Stiles, this isn’t your fault. At all.”

“It’s after me,” he hiccups, trying to calm himself down. “It’s after me and it’s trying to hurt all of you to hurt me. It fucking bit Jackson and Isaac and _Lydia_. If I just—if I just stayed away from you all, it wouldn’t—”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Derek says firmly, growls a little. “You’re staying right here where I can—where I can protect you. I have to—protect you.”

“You can’t protect me, Derek. It’s going to come anyway and then it’ll get you and I can’t—” He chokes up, the tears spilling over again as a sob rips out of his chest.

“It’s not going to get me. And it’s not going to get you, Stiles, I won’t let it.” Derek shakes Stiles’ hands from where he’s still gripping his wrists. “You’re gonna stay here with me where I can protect you and we’re going to figure this out, okay? No more going at it alone. I need you to trust me.”

“I do, I do trust you,” Stiles says as he collects himself. He hates crying in front of people and he especially hates crying in front of Derek. It’s always made him feel weak, even if Derek doesn’t necessarily make him feel that way, doesn’t act like he’s judging him, not when it counts.

Derek looks at him a moment before letting go of his wrists and wrapping his arms around Stiles. Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s midsection and buries his face in Derek’s shoulder. But the position is admittedly uncomfortable and after a couple of minutes, Stiles says, “Can we please, like, take our pants off and lay down?”

Derek huffs a laugh and nods, letting go of Stiles. They silently undress and Stiles sends a quick message to his parents, that will probably freak them out more than anything, and doesn’t hesitate to put the moonstone under Derek’s pillow, because even though he doesn’t have nightmares with Derek, he’s really on edge and having it there will make him feel better.

Derek doesn’t even question it, just climbs in bed and waits for Stiles to find a place to lay, and further doesn’t question it when Stiles snuggles up right against Derek, resting his head on his chest and wrapping his limbs around him.

And Stiles doesn’t question it when Derek presses a firm kiss against his head, thumb stroking over his cheekbone softly. Stiles just sniffles and snuggles in closer and tries to close his eyes and drift off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did you expect anything less to happen?
> 
> i sort of feel like i didn't entirely do this justice, like there's more i could've said or done, but i also feel like i said what needed to be said?? i'm not sure, let me know how you feel
> 
> there's this thing called a "shilombish" that's your outside shadow, in choctaw mythology. basically it remains on the earth and wanders restlessly, frightening friends to make them forsake its former home and seek another place to live. anyway, point is that it assumes the form of a fox or owl and barks or screeches like one in the night, the cry considered ominous of bad things. when the shilombish cries, no response is given by other animals or the animals it imitates. that's why there was a lone owl screech, just as a little easter egg for you guys. i'm not sure why i use choctaw mythology so much, but here it is lol
> 
> there's a lot happening in this chapter, a lot of questions being brought up and i really wanna know how you're thinking and feeling!
> 
> i'm sorry lol


	16. am i born to bleed?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm far more interested in hearing that you spent the night in Derek's room. Again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a little bit longer than the last two have been, but not by very much. i'm still configuring the chapters and how to properly organize them, and i did just finish up my first half of summer school but now we're about to get into the second half which is a little scary. it's only one class, but it's already going to take up a lot of my time, so i'll try to stay regular but updates might be later in the day or stuff like that. i will keep you guys posted!
> 
> chapter title comes from "lonely boy" by the black keys

When Stiles wakes up cuddled against Derek—and, honestly, he’s done that so many times recently that it’s not even funny—he doesn’t freak out. He remembers last night in perfect clarity, but he doesn’t let it affect him because he can’t really deal with that tidal wave of feelings at the moment. He’s quite frankly exhausted from what happened, all that’s been happening, and it feels like no amount of rest is going to fix that.

He slowly extracts his limbs from Derek and rolls out of bed, almost grabbing the moonstone from under Derek’s pillow on instinct before thinking that maybe he should Derek sleep with it a little longer, maybe he’s having good dreams. He grabs his phone off the charger and is met with numerous text messages from both parents. They start frantic, but slowly grow more understanding, telling Stiles that apparently Talia called Claudia late last night and explained everything, and now Claudia is concerned for Stiles, but knows he’ll be safe where he is.

School, luckily, is not going to be a problem today. At least, his mom hasn’t said anything and no one has woken them up to get ready, which Stiles assumes is because they were attacked by the two supernatural beings out to get Stiles and that warrants a get out of school free card, at least for most of them.

When he goes downstairs, he uses the front staircase so the first room he comes to with people in it is the family room. Scott and Allison are both awake, but still reclining on the couch, tangled together. Erica and Boyd look to be asleep, also tangled together on the second couch. Malia, Kira, Danny, and Theo are down here as well, talking quietly amongst themselves but awake.

When he enters the room, his presence is immediately noted.

Theo gets to her feet and strides across the room to him, only looking a little off kilter, and pulls him into a tight, strong hug that makes his ribs protest and his eyes water, because _God_ , had any more of them gotten hurt, he wouldn’t have been able to live with himself. He barely can now.

“Don’t do that to yourself,” Theo murmurs in his ear, low, but perhaps not low enough. It doesn’t matter, other than it brings up the oliphaunt in the room.

“You’re okay,” he says instead of responding to her. Theo pulls back and grins boldly.

“Please, just a small spinal fracture. I’m far more interested in hearing that you spent the night in Derek’s room. _Again_.” She waggles her eyebrows.

“ _Again_?” Scott asks, grinning. “Just how much of a committed relationship are you two in?”

“You’re dating Derek?” Allison asks, but she doesn’t look very surprised, just pleased by the news. “Oh, I’m glad I didn’t bet against Lydia.”

“Or me,” Erica murmurs from her spot on Boyd’s chest. She turns her face so it’s facing them, cracks one eyes open. “I knew you two would be hooking up anytime now.”

Stiles blushes furiously, even though it’s not true and he knows that she knows that he knows that she can’t smell that and that she is indeed fucking with him.

“Pretty sure everyone assumed you two were together,” Danny chimes in, looking surprisingly put together for someone who’s potential boyfriend was just an Alpha’s chew toy and was taken in last night practically clinging to life.

“Isaac was blissfully ignorant, the angel,” Erica says. “Doubt he’d believe it if he saw it with his own eyes.”

“Isaac is cherubic about all things. And he looks up to Derek like an older brother, despite them being almost the same age, you know that,” Theo points out.

“Well, _I’m_ surprised,” Kira adds and smiles at Stiles. It was only just Friday morning that the two of them were lamenting about and purposefully denying the existence of their love lives, and now she probably thinks he’s actually been with Derek this whole time. “You said that you—”

“Can we not talk about this right now?” Stiles interrupts, feeling bad for doing so to Kira, but he’s also feeling really cornered right now. Only Malia and Boyd haven’t ribbed him yet and he’d like to keep it that way, because both of them will be brutally honest and he doesn’t need to hear that. “I just—please, let’s not.”

Everyone goes silent and Stiles feels awful for always being the reason to destroy everyone’s fun, but really just needs a break from the constant stream of shit he has to deal with.

Not a second later—and thankfully not any sooner, though Stiles _knows_ he heard the tail end of the conversation—Derek comes into the room, looking a little sleep dazed and rubbing a hand over his eye.

“Good morning, Derek,” Theo chirps like the little shit she is. Derek grunts in her general direction and she nods like he’s given her exactly what she expected.

“So, Stiles, are you going to tell us about last night?” Danny asks. Stiles internally winces. “Because, all that happened aside, you _moved_ that thing with your hand. Like, with your thoughts. That was crazy, I mean we all saw it. I didn’t know—what _are_ you?”

Danny is the only person currently present who doesn’t know about the supernatural world, but not the only one who isn’t up to date on everything that’s happened to Stiles these past few weeks. And though he’d rather do this in one go with all of his friends, or not at all, he sighs and steels himself for the conversation that has to happen.

“Ah, good, you’re all awake,” a familiar and maternal voice interrupts. Stiles turns to see Talia enter the family room. She smiles gently at everyone before laying a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “We have much to discuss.”

Talia has them all take seated positions, Boyd, Erica, Malia, and Kira fitting on one couch, Theo and Danny in the armchairs, and Scott, Allison, Derek, and Stiles on the other couch, though Stiles notes how Derek purposely sits on the right of Stiles so that he’s as far from Allison on possible, who sits on the left of Scott.

“How’s Jackson? Is he… Is he alright? He was rejecting the bite, wasn’t he?” Danny asks before Talia can open her mouth. She stands before them in front of the mantel. She smiles at Danny, but it doesn’t fully reach her eyes. Stiles wonders how the hell Danny knows what rejecting the bite means or looks like when he doesn’t even know about the supernatural.

“There were some complications. We managed to stabilize him, but he was having some… Issues.”

“So, then, did he reject the bite?” Stiles asks, because Jackson is a total jackass, but he doesn’t deserve to die from bite rejection.

“His body tried to. See, what happened to him is a mutation. Quite rare, I’ve never seen one in person, but we’ve studied them extensively.”

“So… What is he?” Stiles asks, the question on everyone’s mind at this point, and sees Danny leaning forward, interested in what’s going on.

“A kanima. But it can be fixed with a new bite and some emotional reconciliation. Danny, I’ll need your help for that,” Talia says. Stiles has never heard of a kanima before, but apparently it’s pretty serious, given the way Talia’s voice dips.

“And you’ll fix him?” Danny asks, voice unwavering.

There’s no way this is his first rodeo.

Talia shakes her head. “If all goes well, he’ll transform back to a werewolf, be reborn rather. But he may still retain some kanima properties. I lied before. It’s actually quite difficult to effectively cure someone who has the kanima mutation, but, should this all go to plan, this is the closest we will get to curing him.”

Danny seems to think this over for a moment before nodding. “I’ll help you. Anything for Jackson.”

Talia nods. “Good. We’ll make preparations.” She turns back to the group. “As for your two other friends, Isaac has taken the bite and made a full recovery. My son Grant is currently working with him now to get him adjusted to his heightened senses. He may be disoriented for some time as he adjusts, but you’ll see him later today.”

Everyone nods as they take it in.

“And Lydia?” Allison asks tentatively.

“Cora’s with her now,” Talia smiles at the thought. “I called her mother and explained the situation already, though I don’t think Lydia will be too affected.”

Everyone exchanges confused glances except for Stiles and Derek, who understand immediately.

“It really won’t affect her because of that?” Stiles asks. Talia nods.

“Not many supernatural things will affect her, like mountain ash, for example. Like yourself, Stiles, you should be able to bypass mountain ash naturally.”

“Wait, she’s not affected because of what?” Scott asks.

Talia purses her lips. “It’s not exactly my place to say…”

“You’ve already piqued their interests, Mrs. H. I’ll tell them, if you don’t want to, but it’s probably in everyone’s best interests that we come clean. About _everything_ ,” Stiles points out.

Talia concedes. “Very well. Lydia is a banshee, a wailing woman. She’s quite unlike most of you, probably closest to Stiles, though they are dissimilar in many ways.”

“And what exactly is Stiles?” Erica questions, tilting her head to the side and smiling slightly. “Have you been hiding something from us, Batman?”

Stiles can’t help the grin that sneaks on his face at her coy nature, but shakes his head. “Not intentionally. I found out recently that I’m a spark. I, uh, control magic, I guess. It’s how I forced the nalusa chito away from us, but I’m not very good at it. I think that was just a super powerful emotion being let out.”

_My family kept getting hurt, you kept getting hurt, and I couldn’t protect you. And now all your lives are going to be different. It’s my fault, this is all my fault._

Derek grabs Stiles’ hand and squeezes, probably picking up on the sadness and guilt radiating off Stiles through the bond, or maybe by his scent.

Stiles squeezes back.

“The naloosa _what_?” Danny asks, which leads Stiles to believe that however he knows what he knows, the nalusa chito isn’t something that’s come up a lot for him, which is unsurprising.

“Nalusa chito, soul eater, been hunting Stiles for the past couple of weeks,” Malia finally speaks, tone bored and dull. “Keep up.”

“So, Lydia’s a banshee, Stiles is a spark, Jackson is a kanima-werewolf-thing, Malia is a werecoyote, Kira is a kitsune, and Derek, Erica, Boyd, me, Cora, Isaac, and Theo are all werewolves. And only Allison and Danny are humans. Well, that escalated quickly,” Scott concludes.

“I was born into a family of Hunters who know a thing or two about the supernatural community,” Allison reminds him.

“And how to kill them,” Derek grumbles under his breath, though everyone in the room aside from maybe Allison and Danny hear him, Stiles only hearing him because of their proximity. He shoots a glance at Derek, but Derek looks away.

“Yeah, and I was raised by werewolves,” Danny says casually, like that’s not a big bomb coming out of nowhere. Which it’s kind of not, because Stiles started to pick up on the fact that Danny knows at least a bit of what’s going on and what everything is, but it takes others by surprise.

“Wait, what?” Scott asks, doing a double take.

Danny raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You couldn’t tell that? I thought I’d reek of my family.”

“Scott hasn’t been a wolf for long, he might still be struggling to differentiate between scents, especially since you and your family smell like the Hale pack,” Talia explains.

“Wait, really? You guys all knew?” Scott looks at the other wolves.

“We’ve known since he was born, known his family the whole time,” Theo says, gesturing to herself and Derek and Malia. “Or, you know, I found out when I moved here, but same thing.” She points at Erica and Boyd. “Those two found out when they joined the pack. Kira here probably didn’t know and I doubt Stiles or Allison did.”

“I suspected,” Stiles chirps up, looking over at Danny. “You’re acting surprisingly calm about the situation. Like something like this has happened before.”

Danny shrugs. “Not in the same capacity, but yeah, I’ve done this before.”

“What are the odds that all of our group of friends are in some way affected by the supernatural world?” Scott muses. Allison and a few others laugh, but Talia shrugs.

“I’m not surprised. This town is quite special. It has a tendency to pull like-minded people together. And supernatural creatures tend to band together. I think you all were meant to find each other, and form your own little pack.”

Everyone is silent for a moment, taking that in. Theo breaks first, because if it wasn’t her, it would’ve been Stiles for sure.

“Aww, who do we think is our Alpha?” she asks in a lilting voice, trying to sound adorable and dreamy.

There’s no discussion when they all point and say, “Derek!” in unison.

Derek’s face immediately burns red and the hand that’s still holding Stiles’ clutches tightly and Stiles starts laughing and trying to poke at Derek’s face, though he’s not hiding it with his free hand.

(Stiles does hear a couple people mention Scott’s name as potential Alpha material, which makes Scott preen, before they start clambering on about Derek again.)

And Derek wouldn’t necessarily be the greatest Alpha, and they all know it, because he’s surly and grumpy and has a hard time communicating his emotions or feelings or telling people when he’s happy with them or their work. Most days, it’s hard to tell if you’ve even friends with him because he likes to be left alone and is cold. But when he finally relaxes, like when he’s hanging out in his room by himself or is out with his family or pack and just enjoying spending time with them, or the rare times when he’s out with friends and he’s laughing or smiling or participating in jokes and conversations, when he lets go of all that bullshit that he holds onto, that makes him so dark and gloomy, he’s a really good guy.

He’s the dad friend that they all need, that pushes them to be better and shows up when it’s most important, like to Allison’s photography show even though they don’t get along at all but he knows it’ll make her and the rest of their friends attending happy, or to Erica’s mandatory night bowling that she can only do now as a werewolf because before the strobes affected her too much and so she makes them go at least once a week and it makes her so happy to see Derek there and bowling terribly despite his purported skills as a werewolf, or to Jackson’s swim meets because he gives them all a genuine smile when they show up to cheer him on, even when he’s been a total douche to them, or to take Isaac to the movies when his dad’s been too much to handle and Stiles texts Isaac the whole time to make sure he’s okay and he says he is because Derek’s going to look out for him.

He’s hard to read and annoying and typically ignores people when they want his attention, but he always shows up when he’s needed, always. So he might not be the greatest Alpha in the world, probably not better than Talia or Laura will be, but he’d be a good one, and they’d be lucky to have him.

They’re lucky to have him now.

Stiles is lucky to have him in his life, standing by his side, the way he’s been recently has been the way Stiles has always wanted him to be, and he’s never realized that that’s how Derek’s been this whole time, he just hides it and shoves it down and never lets it see the light of day.

Stiles wonders why that is.

Erica is speaking as Stiles fades back into reality. “—charming and handsome, too! He’s definitely our Alpha!”

Derek makes a noise of discontent and slips his face further into his hand. Stiles sees Talia just grinning proudly at him from her position by the mantel.

Stiles decides to cut him some slack.

“Oh, leave him alone! You’re going to break him!” he protests.

Theo grins wildly. “Isn’t that your job?”

Stiles chokes on the spit in his mouth as everyone laughs and immediately starts calling him “pack mom” and snickering as they tease the two of them.

Stiles rolls his eyes and leans his head down so it’s close to Derek’s, so the others are less likely to hear, and brings his free hand to drop on Derek’s knee.

“I tried to stop them,” he points out.

“Thanks for your valiant effort,” Derek mumbles, sound slightly blocked by his palm. Stiles grins and slaps at Derek’s knee.

“You’re welcome, Alpha,” he teases. Derek grows even redder and groans, extracting his hand from Stiles’ to bring it up and hide his face completely.

“Okay, okay, enough,” Talia says after another minute of teasing, clearly trying to hide her smile. She gestures for Danny to stand. “We’ve made them wait long enough, let’s go cure your kanima.”

Danny stands immediately and follows her out of the room without another word.

After a second of silence, Erica says, “But, like, do you think Alpha Derek would make us breakfast in the mornings like Alpha Talia does when we stay the nights? Like we’d come downstairs and find a shirtless, hairy Derek leaning over the frying pan and cracking eggs, not caring where the shells fly?”

Stiles wants to argue that Derek’s chest isn’t hairy at all, well, maybe just a bit. But it’s a nice bit of hairy and, again, makes him look far older than seventeen.

“I doubt he’d fry the eggs. Probably just make us drink them raw,” Theo chirps.

“For protein,” Boyd deadpans. Everyone starts laughing again and Derek, who has just removed his hands from his face, plants them back there again, groaning.

Stiles can’t help but laugh at him.

+++

Stiles doesn’t know how everyone got it cleared with their parents to miss school, or to lie about where they were all evening and morning and how they totally will be attending school today, but they all stay together at the Hales until early afternoon.

June and Mabel make breakfast for them all, bickering and calling Stiles to come help them when they need an extra hand. Isaac comes downstairs with Cora after an hour, who has apparently currently given up her post at Lydia’s bedside. They’re not sure when she’ll wake up, but Talia doesn’t think there will be any werewolf effects on her at all, not even the pull of the moon, so Stiles is grateful. He doesn’t need another best friend turning into a furry creature when the moon is full.

Cora pulls Stiles aside before they sit down and twiddles her thumbs nervously, unable to meet his eyes.

“Stiles, I’m sorry about yesterday, I should’ve listened to you. If I had listened to you, none of this would have happened. Lydia would be—” she chokes up and Stiles immediately pulls her into a tight hug.

“Cora, how could I possibly blame you for last night? We didn’t know they were going to be there, you didn’t know. It was an accident, okay? I accept your apology, but it’s unnecessary,” he says into her hair. Cora makes a sobbing noise before pulling him closer, and it just reminds him of how young she is.

“Thank you,” he hears her murmur into his shirt.

“There’s nothing to thank me for. And Lydia will be okay, alright? She’s pretty damn strong, you know that.”

“Will you be okay?” Cora asks, pulling back to look up at him. He smiles down at her, only a few inches between their height difference, but at times like this, it emphasizes how small she really is, in all regards.

“I’ll be fine,” he says, not necessarily a lie, but he doesn’t know if it’s the full truth. Cora seems to realize this too, but she accepts his answer.

“Good. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Stiles. Any of us, for that matter.” Then her face hardens. “And if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll rip your spleen out.”

Stiles reaches down and kisses Cora’s forehead, which has her reeling back and making gagging noises, but Stiles knows that’s mainly for show.

“I love you too, Cora,” he tells her. She makes a disgusted face before punching him in the arm, but it’s soft and comes with a little smile. Then, she turns and goes to get her breakfast. Stiles follows after her, catching Derek’s eye on accident, who’s smiling softly at him, this weird look in his eyes. Stiles just returns the smile before going to make up his plate.

They eat breakfast and talk and joke and act just like normal teenagers, which Stiles is also grateful for. Last night seemed to hardly affect them, except for those who it affected the most.

Stiles hasn’t heard word of Jackson or Danny at all, not until just after noon, when Danny comes and finds them in the game room upstairs. He looks bone tired and immediately drops his torso onto Isaac’s lap and pulls a blanket over himself. After a couple minutes, the pack slowly starts to relocate themselves around Danny. Scott and Malia stop playing foosball to drop to the floor in front of Danny, leaving a large gap between themselves, Erica lifts up Danny’s legs so she can sit under them, Kira and Allison sitting at Danny’s feet. Boyd sits beside Isaac and throws an arm around Isaac’s shoulders, fingers just barely grazing Danny’s shoulder, and Theo and Cora find seats touching Boyd and Allison, completing the line of pack members. Stiles stands next to Derek by the big tv and watches.

“What are they doing?” he asks.

Derek watches them for a moment before speaking. “They recognize Danny is in distress, that he’s exhausted. They’re supporting their pack member.”

Stiles has really never seen a pack do that. Sure, he’s seen and been on the receiving end of careful touches and loving strokes, but never anything so… Encompassing. It almost looks… Peaceful.

Derek grabs Stiles’ hand and Stiles let him tug him to the spot on the floor, the large gap that Scott and Malia left open. They take their seats, with Stiles on Derek’s left, Derek wrapping an arm behind Stiles’ shoulder, his elbow touching Danny’s arm, his hand resting against Scott’s shoulder. He pulls Stiles against him so that Stiles’ head is on Derek’ shoulder and Stiles can’t help but let it happen.

Later, when people start finally having to go home, and after they’ve finally retrieved their stuff from the woods with adult supervision this time, they all, every single one, give Stiles and Derek a hug. It starts with Erica, who always gives hugs so it’s not a problem that he’s currently getting a mouthful of curls. Then Erica trots off happily to Derek who looks surprised, but pats her back in a way that kind of emulates a hug. Derek’s face goes red when she says something that Stiles doesn’t hear and he shoves her away, and she’s cackling, so it must have just been something really embarrassing.

But then Boyd comes up and claps Stiles on the shoulder a few times, which is weird for their relationship but Stiles accepts it (and totally doesn’t get jealous when Boyd full on embraces Derek, who hugs him back just as warmly). And then Kira comes up, which that’s a nice friendly hug, and then Isaac, which is also nice and a little weird because they don’t hug either but whatever, and then Allison and Scott hug him, which, normal, so.

And then Danny. Danny gives Stiles a weird look before moving in and wrapping his arms around him for a quick moment before pulling back and nodding to himself. And then he goes over and does it to _Derek_. And Derek _accepts_ it.

Weird. Absolutely bizarre.

(The only person who didn’t hug Derek was Allison, but Stiles thinks that that’s completely understandable. They’re not there yet, and Stiles isn’t sure if they ever will be.)

He stops Allison and Scott before they leave, and asks, “Uh, what’s with all the hugging?”

“I always hug you,” Scott says, looking hurt. Stiles narrows his eyes.

“Not you, wolf-boy. I meant everyone else. I mean, the only thing that would’ve been stranger would be if Lydia and Jackson were here to hug me. I think I would’ve spontaneously combusted.”

“Lydia would hug you if you seriously needed a hug,” Allison adds, not too helpfully. Then she says, “I’m sure the hugging is a wolf thing. We got called a pack today. I think the wolves are taking that literally.”

“Can there even be a pack within a pack?” Stiles wonders.

“You’re the expert,” Scott says, a teasing smile slipping on his face.

“Get out of my sight,” Stiles dismisses. They both laugh and turn to leave. Stiles calls to their retreating backs. “And text me both when you get home! I want time-stamps and documented proof you’re home and not at each other’s houses!”

“Pack mom!” Erica calls across the way from where she’s standing and chatting with Derek and Boyd and Isaac. Stiles eloquently flips her off and turns to head back inside.

He heads in and is halfway up the stairs when Talia’s voice calls out to him. He spots her at the bottom of the stairs and is about to head down when she comes to meet him halfway.

“I spoke to the Alphas and the Pack,” she tells him. “We’re going to increase patrols around you and your house, and keep a close eye on your pack.”

“Thank you,” Stiles nods, assuming by “pack” she means his friends, and then gestures toward downstairs. “Um, is Jackson going to be okay? Danny didn’t tell us if it worked or not…”

“I think it did,” Talia tells him. “There was a lot of personal, unresolved issues those two had, but I think Jackson will be better. He’ll need to rest for a bit and have some training before he’s ready to properly do anything.”

“And Lydia’s still—”

“She’ll wake up in a few days,” Talia promises. “I think that this experience will, if anything, kickstart her banshee abilities.”

“You do?” Stiles asks, slightly taken aback.

“Oh, yes. It’s similar to how your spark acts out in times when you greatly need defense, when your life is in danger. I believe your situations to be similar.”

“But I didn’t get bit by a crazy Alpha werewolf,” he notes sourly. He wishes Lydia never had to experience that. Jackson and Isaac too, for that matter, and Scott.

“I know,” Talia says sadly. “I wish the same. You are all too young to be experiencing any of this, and if I had a good way to protect you from everything that could ever do you wrong, I would. But I think this is the best protection I can offer you for the time being.”

“You’re doing everything you can,” Stiles assures her, because even though it’s probably not entirely true, it’s definitely what she needs to hear right now. “I’d probably be dead if it wasn’t you. You guys are my heroes, really.”

Talia laughs, but it’s a bit wet. She looks away from him, eyes shining. “Well, I’m glad to hear that.” She looks back and her smile wobbles, but Stiles doesn’t point it out. “All that matters is your safety, Stiles.”

“But if it’s my safety versus my friends’, then I’m not going to hesitate to lead the danger away from them.”

“We don’t trade lives, Stiles,” Talia says sternly.

Stiles laughs. “You can’t just quote Captain America to me and expect me to fold, I’m not _that_ easy,” he jokes, because it’s easier than arguing his self-destructive tendencies with her.

Talia takes his hands in hers, holding them gently. “We’re going to save everyone,” she promises, even though those words are never true, even though they never seem to work out.

Stiles squeezes her hands and nods. “I know,” he says, and it’s not technically a lie, because he knows she’s going to try. He just doesn’t know if she’s going to succeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all, again, i finished the first half of summer school and i am so grateful. i thought i would take some classes over the summer to help get me closer to my major and while that works in theory, it is just sooo much work. not to mention i'm going to get a job again here soon (blissful to not have one, but immensely boring and i'm broke so) anyway, that's it on personal updates
> 
> i want to say that i'm sorry that none of the parents don't play too big a role in this story, but that's mainly because i just know that if they did, they'd be able to fix everything relatively quickly, which defeats the whole purpose of the story. so i'm sorry if some of y'all are frustrated with them, but they're like NPCs, okay, they can't actually contribute that much to the story because it'll take away from the story and the major protagonists. i love them and they're badass, but they're mainly just supporting characters here, okay?
> 
> if you're going to tell me it's unrealistic that everyone's parents said yes to them staying home from school or were oblivious enough to not realize they weren't at school, then you are absolutely right, but for timeline purposes, it had to be done and i am sorry
> 
> i love the headcanon that danny knows about the supernatural not from an ex boyfriend, but because his family is closely involved in the supernatural community. i really like the whole witch thing, like that they're all witches and then danny, lydia, and stiles are like the witchy humans, right, but i wanted to play on the werewolf thing specifically, so therefore he's a human born into a werewolf pack
> 
> supernatural creatures are drawn together. i am restating this because it has significance ;)
> 
> also, derek is forever an alpha to me even if he's not actually an alpha (and a quick scott reference for y'all btw). i love derek waayyyy too much and i'm sure it shows in this fic, but i just need to express how great he is and more specifically how much potential he has, even with his faults
> 
> stiles is pack mom. you heard it here first. also how could i resist a marvel quote? the answer is i couldn't. thank you for coming to my ted talk


	17. the kind of eyes that drive wolves mad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Will you talk?" Derek asks louder, opening his eyes and tilting his head to look at Stiles, making eye contact. "I like listening to you talk."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i really have nothing to say other than i am sorry in advance, but like it will be okay, i promise
> 
> chapter title from "li'l red riding hood" by sam the sham & the pharaohs

Stiles returns to his home, hugs his parents, explains everything to them, and proceeds to spend the next few days going through the motions. It’s easier with his friends now all aware of most of the drama going on—and Stiles takes the time on Tuesday to sit them all down, a freshly healed, disappointingly not-scaly Jackson included, and tell them about almost everything that’s happened since the Five Packs came to town, and what exactly they are, and also what a kitsune, werecoyote, banshee, kanima, and spark are. The only things he left out being his and Derek’s bond, which he still didn’t exactly want to tell people about, not that Derek was jumping at the opportunity either, and he didn’t tell them about anything he didn’t tell Derek already, such as meeting Peter in the woods and whatnot. He’s not sure why, especially because he knows it hasn’t worked in the past, but he kind of wants to keep that a secret thing. Besides, with Peter, Stiles doesn’t actually think there’s anything too bad in him, at least not directed at Stiles specifically. So he feels like he’s safe.

(He also strictly does not bring up the kiss. Not to the pack, not to Derek, not to anybody. He and Derek don’t talk about it because Derek doesn’t bring it up either and both of them are currently pretending like it didn’t happen, so that’s fine.)

But he makes it to Wednesday and comes to school to see his beautiful strawberry blonde haired goddess getting a book from her locker. He runs up and grabs her, spinning her around in a hug.

“I’m wearing a skirt!” she protests, but she sounds like she’s smiling. Stiles sets her down and spins her around so he can see her face.

He grabs her shoulder lightly, but holds her firm. “Lydia, I’ve never wanted to kiss you more than I do right now,” he tells her seriously.

Lydia raises an eyebrow (confident and knowing, and there’s a touch of smug happiness there) and tilts her chin in a further display of confidence.

“I know,” she says smugly, a smirk on her lips, and leans in to kiss his cheek, leaving a sticky lip gloss mark there. He grins at her as she pulls away. Her smirk fades into a small, genuine smile. “I missed you, too, Stiles.”

Stiles lets go of her shoulders to spin her again and throw his arm over her shoulders, resting his non-lip-gloss-marked cheek on her head, which is sure to piss her off but he can’t help it. She moves to her locker and Stiles follows, lifting his cheek only when she angrily shakes her head, but not removing his arm.

“If you get hurt on me again, Red, I don’t know what I’ll do,” he admits, only half-joking.

“Probably perish,” Lydia chirps, but Stiles knows she’s fully joking. “You know, if I learned anything from the experience, it’s that there is no good way to wake up from a coma. There’s just no attractive way to do it.”

“Oh, and who were you trying to impress by waking up seductively from your coma?” Stiles says suggestively. He knows exactly who, but if Lydia gets to tease him about not-dating Derek, then he’s going to tease her about Cora.

Lydia’s expression grows pinched, like she’s trying not to yell at Stiles in the middle of this hallway of people.

“Don’t. Because I have more evidence on you than you have on me,” she threatens.

Stiles laughs. “Uh, no way.”

Lydia smirks up at him. “You and Derek have known each other since you were, what, four? I’ve been in classes with you two since we were maybe eight, and Cora’s literally known you since she was three, when you and Derek first met. So I have _plenty_ of material, don’t try me.”

Stiles removes his arm from Lydia’s shoulders to hold both hands up in defeat. “Okay, okay, _Jesus_ , Lyds. I get it. Ix-nay on the ora-Cay.” She hums and keeps messing around in her locker. Stiles decides to rip the band-aid off. “Um, so, like, you don’t feel anything? After all of that? Do you even remember any of it? The screaming?”

Lydia gets an uncomfortable look on her face and Stiles opens his mouth to apologize and change topics when she sighs. “I don’t feel any different. The, um…” She shifts uncomfortably and lowers her voice. “Some of the voices are… Stronger. But I barely remember it and I certainly don’t remember being bit or screaming like everyone says I did. Talia told me that they heard me screaming back at the house—Derek’s creepy uncle Peter did—even though there was some kind of magical sound barrier around us. That’s why they didn’t hear us sooner.”

Stiles thinks about it. Yeah, that didn’t really make sense why they didn’t come sooner, but if the druid who used magic to control the nalusa chito made a soundproof bubble, like force field, around them all, it makes sense no one could hear them. Or, maybe, they were hearing what they wanted to, because if the Hales couldn’t hear them, they would’ve come running sooner. That would also explain the booming noise Stiles heard when he sent the nalusa chito away; maybe he broke the force field with his power.

That’s kind of an interesting thought.

“I guess that makes sense,” Stiles says. Lydia nods.

“When I screamed, I guess Peter heard it and he told Talia to call Deaton. Talia said when Erica and Boyd went to find them, they met in the middle, because Peter had heard me and sent them all running already.”

“Huh,” Stiles says. “I guess I didn’t realize Peter was so in tune to stuff like that.”

It’s definitely something he wants to ask Peter about.

Lydia shrugs. “I don’t know. I barely understand it myself, but that’s what everyone says happened so I’m just believing it.” She shuts her locker and sighs. “I’m surprised my mom even let me come to school today, but I told her I couldn’t miss any more classes. Besides, I miss you all, and if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll skin you alive.”

She says the threat so casually that she might as well be talking about her extensive knowledge on theoretical physics, which just makes Stiles grin and wrap his arm around her again.

“Aww, you love us!” he sings. Lydia tosses her hair over her shoulder as best she can with a hyperactive spaz hanging off her shoulders. They start walking down the hall.

“Just Allison,” she deadpans. Then pauses to reconsider. “And Malia and Kira and Theo and Cora and Danny, and Erica on a good day.”

Stiles holds a mock-offended hand to his chest. “I’m wounded, Lydia, seriously. After everything we’ve been through!”

“And Scott,” Lydia adds after a moment. “And Isaac and Derek. Boyd’s not too bad to deal with, a little stoic. Jackson.”

“Jackson! Before me! Really!” He grows increasingly more and more fake-distressed.

“He gives me less headaches,” she says dismissively. Stiles makes an offended noise and tries not to smirk when he sees Lydia’s tick of a smile.

Yeah, he really missed her.

+++

Somehow, over the next few days, the Alpha twins integrate themselves into Stiles’ friend group. It starts on Wednesday during first period. Stiles walks into his history class and finds one of the twins—he still doesn’t know which—sitting in his usual seat, talking to Isaac. Stiles feels all his internal alarms and spidey senses going off, but he doesn’t know what to even say. _Look out, Isaac, that werewolf has a problem with humans in the Pack and looked at me funny!_

Doesn’t really translate well.

Stiles takes the next seat available, which is on the other side of Isaac, and glares across Isaac at the twin, narrowing his eyes when the twin makes eye contact. The twin’s mouth quirks up at the corner when their eyes meet, and it makes Stiles all the more indignant. Isaac notices that the twin’s attention isn’t on him anymore and looks over to see who he’s looking at.

“Stiles,” Isaac greets like he couldn’t smell Stiles at all. To be fair, he might not be able to, given that he’s still training his senses. Scott was a bit of a prodigy with learning how to control and understand his new abilities, to an extent. He was certainly quicker than Boyd and Erica, who weren’t slow, but just weren’t as quick as Scott. From the looks of it, Isaac will be the same, Jackson probably even slower than him as he learns to control the after effects of the kanima, too, which Peter has been working with him on.

And, it’s not like bitten wolves are uncommon, but also they sort of are. Like Theo’s mom Rhea was bitten and thus will age slower than a human, but faster than a born wolf, like her husband or children. Erica and Boyd were requested bites, with parental consent (Erica’s mom had known about the supernatural and Talia from before Erica was born, which is why she brought Erica to Talia, once Erica found out about the supernatural community, and she dragged Boyd with her, or rather, he found out and refused to let her go at it alone, so he sought permission to tell his parents and ask both of them and Talia to be bitten alongside Erica, both sets of parents agreeing tentatively). Jackson, Isaac, and Scott were due to the Alpha werewolf, of course, but rogue Alphas like that are pretty uncommon, Stiles only ever having heard stories of them in other towns, cautionary tales that Talia uses to remind them to watch out for signs and never try to attack an Alpha on their own, should they encounter one.

Stiles thinks, _There’s an Alpha right here, right in front of me, five feet maybe, and all that’s between us is Isaac, who is currently more human than wolf and far too innocent to be much more, and my “abilities” are still pretty much useless and what if it was him who bit Isaac, or Jackson or Scott or Lydia? What could I do? Scream for help? Call for Derek?_

Stiles leans in, well aware that the twin will be able to hear him, and says to Isaac, “You shouldn’t be talking to him.”

“Ethan?” Isaac asks, glancing over at him. Ethan, apparently, raises his eyebrows when he hears his name, trying to look innocent and probably succeeding to the untrained eye.

Stiles narrows his eyes and drops his voice low enough so only Isaac and Ethan will be able to hear. He leans forward even more.

“He and his brother are a part of Deucalion’s pack. They don’t believe in humans integrating with a werewolf pack,” she hisses, glaring at Ethan.

Ethan maintains an innocent expression while Isaac makes a dubious face. “There’s no way. Ethan’s not like that at all,” Isaac dismisses. “You’re being paranoid, Stiles.”

Stiles wants to throw his hands in the air, because, _really_? What’s so paranoid about telling the truth and trying to spare his pack from getting hurt?

And, whoa, that’s the first time he’s really intentionally thought of his friends as his pack, but even just thinking it feels right, like it was always meant to be.

He tells Isaac, “Okay, fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you,” and leans back into his own space. Isaac makes a slightly wounded expression before returning to his conversation with Ethan, talking about some movie they’ve both seen recently.

Stiles slumps in his seat and tries to ignore them.

+++

This goes on for the rest of the day: Ethan and sometimes Aiden, though Stiles still can’t really tell them apart, appearing everywhere Stiles goes and talking to his friends, who he can’t really tell about all this because they might not believe him like Isaac, and he doesn’t want to get into a full discussion about how they’re actually evil and why no one should associate with them.

Luckily, the twins leave him alone at lunch, though they keep bugging him afterwards in the classes they now magically share with him. But the next day, when Stiles enters the cafeteria, he sees the creepy twins from _The Shining_ sitting side by side, chatting happily with the pack, an empty seat right in front of them.

Stiles grits his teeth and crosses the linoleum tiles to take the available seat, glaring pointedly at the twins. Scott greets him as he sits, but Stiles ignores it in favor of leaning forward toward the Alphas, both of whom raise interested eyebrows in his direction.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” Stiles demands, keeping his voice low, but more so he’s not projecting across the cafeteria. He doesn’t care if the pack hears, they _should_ hear this.

“Whatever do you mean, Stiles?” the twin on the left asks. Stiles hesitates for a second because he really isn’t sure which one that is, but he is wearing a red V-neck like the one Ethan was wearing earlier, so then the one in the blue V-neck must be Aiden. Easy enough.

“We’re eating our lunch,” Aiden offers, smirking and biting into a fry. Oh, yeah, Aiden’s definitely the more confident, smarmy one.

“You know exactly what you’re doing. You’re trying to integrate yourselves into my pack because Deucalion wants you to. He’s playing some sick game and somehow me and my friends are a part of it. You need to leave us alone. Now.”

Stiles realizes that he’s not exactly in the right place to be making demands, considering he has no powers that actually work and he doesn’t know Deucalion’s plan at all and they’re both Alphas and literally none of them would be able to take them on, not even Derek, who’s not even present right now. Stiles feels fear strike his heart for a second before he schools his expression into anger and prays neither of them smelled that.

Aiden grins devilishly though and Stiles knows he’s fucked. “ _Your_ pack? That’s rather interesting, Ethan, don’t you think?”

Aiden turns his head to grin at his brother, who nods and eats a fry, looking mostly unbothered. “Sure do, Aiden.”

Aiden turns back to face Stiles and his face grows cruel, finally shedding his mask for everyone to see. Stiles hears his friends shifting, but no one says anything, and Stiles stays exactly where he is.

“ _You_ have no pack. You’re just a little spark that follows the Hales around like a puppy, hoping they’ll give you the title of Emissary when you’re all big and strong. News flash: you’ll never be that strong.”

He wants to argue that that’s not true, the Hales are his pack, his friends are his pack, and he’s meant to be the Emissary to the Hale pack as soon as he finishes training, that everyone says he’s the brightest spark they’ve ever seen, but he can’t find his voice.

“You’re not even strong enough to stand up to us. I could smell that fear on you from a mile away. Where’s Derek? He’s the one you constantly chase around like some kind of bitch. I’m surprised you could find the words to speak to us in front of your little “ _pack_ ” without Derek here to hold your hand. We’re Alphas, Stiles, what did you think was going to happen? Or did you need someone to remind you of how powerful we really are? I can think of a few ways.”

Aiden’s eyes flash red and Stiles feels the involuntary fear creep in again and Scott and Theo are moving in their seats like they might say something when suddenly Aiden’s eyes dim back to normal and something almost like fear crosses over his face as a shadow looms over the table behind Stiles.

“Back off,” comes a deep voice from behind him. Aiden and Ethan’s faces place as they strangely go into submission, bowing their heads slightly and lowering their eyes. Stiles turns and looks up to see Derek standing rather close to him, almost pressed against his back, eyes far too golden and bright for the middle of the cafeteria, just like Aiden’s were bright red, features slightly too sharp and hairy.

Stiles immediately jumps out of his seat and grabs Derek’s hands, trying to pull him away, but Derek stays rooted to the spot, glaring at the twin Alphas like they’re lowly Omegas. Stiles uses one hand to cup Derek’s cheek, fully aware that their friends are all watching this happen with rapt attention, and he’s fully embarrassed and probably blushing all over, and puts his head in front of Derek, blocking his line of sight so all he sees is Stiles.

“Hey, Der, come on. Leave it alone,” he instructs, stroking his cheek. He whispers low enough that no one else will hear him, only Derek. “They’re Alphas, you can’t take them on. Back down, big guy. I’m okay, I’m safe, you saved me.”

And it works, somehow, because Derek’s eyes dim back to their usual kaleidoscopes and his face softens, jaw unclenching and slight hair that was appearing, receding. His hand squeezes the one Stiles is still holding and they stand there for probably a second too long, staring into each other’s eyes and holding hands and Stiles still stroking one of Derek’s cheeks. Derek’s other hand comes up to hold onto Stiles’ waist and for whatever reason, it breaks the spell for both of them. Derek’s grips on Stiles’ waist tightens but he stops squeezing his hand, dropping his gaze. Stiles drops the hand that was stroking his cheek to rest on his shoulder and hesitates for a moment before reaching down and grabbing his backpack, leaving everything else where it is and putting his hand on Derek’s chest, pushing him back, Derek just going along with it like he trusts Stiles completely, before turning him around and steering him out of the cafeteria with two hands on his back.

All Stiles can think about is now Ethan and Aiden know. If they weren’t sure before, now they know.

Their friends might not be too well versed on exactly everything that’s been going on and those not in the Hale pack, or that are newly integrated Stiles should say, are aware that Stiles and Derek met when they were four and have been forced to be friends with each other since. Very few of their friends know about the bond, which Stiles likes and wants to keep it that way. But Aiden and Ethan couldn’t figure out before why Derek and Stiles were so close, probably because they don’t even really smell like a mated pair, and if Aiden and Ethan didn’t know, that means Deucalion and the other Alphas presumably didn’t know.

But now it’s become glaringly obvious, hasn’t it? The way Stiles is (miraculously) able to calm Derek down, the way they’re constantly around each other, at first reluctantly and now seeking each other out for safety purposes at the very least. Deucalion and the Alphas witnessed Derek trying to calm Stiles down after he found out he was a spark, but, luckily, they also saw Scott trying to calm him down, along with his parents, and though Derek was more involved than Scott, Deucalion could’ve written that encounter off as a friendly gesture, although he probably was suspicious.

He also was surely suspicious when Talia wouldn’t tell him why Stiles and his parents knew about the Hale pack, though that also could’ve been written off that it was just Talia being protective over the spark thing and not wanting Stiles to know at the time, and not because she was hiding her son’s mate from prying eyes.

But Deucalion knowing, because Aiden and Ethan are obviously going to tell him, that’s not going to be pretty. Stiles isn’t sure what’s going to happen, but he can feel in his bones right now that it’s not going to be good.

Stiles steers Derek down the hall and back to the classroom they were in the other day, back when all their friends burst in on them, just over a week ago now and before three of their lives completely changed.

He shuts the door with his foot and pushes Derek gently to sit at one of the tables.

“Are you, uh, gonna freak out?” Stiles asks, sitting backwards in the chair in front of Derek’s desk, leaning his elbows on the top of the chair’s back.

Derek leans forward on his forearms that are planted on the desk, his head bumping into Stiles’ shoulder though it doesn’t seem entirely intentional. He looks a little unhinged.

“If they ever talk to you like that again—” Derek says, cutting himself off so he can take some deep breaths. Well, with every word he says there’s an underlying growl there, like he’s struggling really hard to hold it back, which is always attractive—that’s seriously never not gonna be attractive—but Derek really doesn’t need to hear all that right now.

“I’m okay, Derek, really,” Stiles reaches a hand out and rubs at Derek’s upper back, which almost immediately loosens up some of the tension there, and only loosens up more when Stiles starts using his nails. He accidentally scratches over Derek’s neck, which makes his whole body shiver which is _really, really interesting_ , but Stiles decides now is not the time to explore that.

He keeps scratching at Derek’s back while Derek just breathes, and it doesn’t take long before he’s completely pliant and resting his head on his elbow so Stiles has easier access to his back, which Stiles doesn’t really mind all that much. He loves having excuses to touch Derek.

“Will you talk?" Derek mumbles eyes closed, so quiet that Stiles doesn’t think he hears him right.

“What?" Stiles asks for clarification.

“Will you talk?” Derek asks louder, opening his eyes and tilting his head to look at Stiles, making eye contact. “I like listening to you talk.”

Stiles’ heart clenches and climbs up into his throat and he can only stare for a couple moments before he gets his shit together and quickly nods his head, swallowing hard.

“Yeah, yes, I can talk. Um, what do you want me to talk about?”

“Anything. Whatever you want.”

Stiles thinks for a moment before his brain settles on a seemingly related topic. “You know the story of Little Red Riding Hood?”

Derek laughs, eyes squeezing shut as his lips stretch wide across his teeth. Stiles can’t help but smile at him.

“Well, do you or don’t you?”

“Probably better than you do,” Derek says, leaving his eyes closed, though his free hand comes up and finds Stiles’ free hand, and tangles their fingers together. “Go on.”

Stiles swallows hard again and clears his throat, trying to focus on scratching Derek’s back.

“Well, it was originally written by Charles Perrault, first published and the most famous version. I think it was written in the 17th century, that’s, like, when he was alive. You know, Perrault actually wrote _Cinderella_ , _Puss in Boots_ , _The Sleeping Beauty_ , and _Bluebeard_? Like he wrote those fairytales.”

“Why do you know so much about fairytales?”

“Well, I wasn’t sure which ones would end up being applicable to my life so I read about them all,” Stiles admits, smiling. Derek smiles too and does this little head shake like Stiles is crazy. “So, anyway, he writes that she’s called Little Red Riding Hood because of her red cape, right? And she’s supposed to go deliver goods to her sick grandma. This wolf approaches her and has this Frankenstein’s monster moment with flowers like the Maria scene, but he doesn’t kill her or anything like the Creature did. He goes to her grandma’s and swallows her whole and then she gets there—the little girl—and they have the whole big eyes/big teeth conversation and then he eats her and falls asleep and it ends there.”

“Morbid.”

“Quite. So, people were like, “Nah, that sucks, that’s too sad. We’re gonna make it a much better ending than that.” So they make a woodcutter come in, in the French version, but in the Brothers Grimm and the German versions, it’s a Hunter. But he comes, cuts the wolf open, and rescues Little Red and Granny unharmed. Then he fills the wolf’s belly with stones, and he wakes up and tries to flee, but can’t move because of the stones and he dies.”

Derek makes a humming noise to show he’s listening.

“So, anyway, I was reading about that story one time and I read that in early variations of the tale, the wolf isn’t always a wolf, but sometimes a werewolf, making the tales relevant to the werewolf trials of that time. Have you ever heard of Peter Stumpp?”

“Werewolf of Bedburg. Peter made us attend, like, Werewolf Sunday School when we were younger.”

Stiles laughs. “Yeah, so, “potential” werewolf but the evidence is pretty shoddy, and then they tortured him until he confessed to other crimes, so it’s hard to believe what’s true, you know?”

“Like the Salem witch trials,” Derek murmurs and then smiles, presumably because he knows he’s just said something that’ll drive Stiles crazy, because it absolutely does.

“You know that none of those people were real witches. They were poisoned by the town grain supply and then nineteen people died. I mean, that was—hey! Don’t try to get me off topic!”

“Oh, sorry,” Derek laughs, clearly not apologetic.

Stiles waves their conjoined hands slightly. “So, the point is that Peter helped me find these documents of what we thought was the earliest version of the story written down, but not officially published anywhere, where the wolf was a werewolf _and_ there was mention of a “Hunter” coming in and killing the wolf. The girl in it, Little Red, was allegedly a girl from a village that had wandered into the woods and was purportedly eaten by the werewolf, because all they found was a red cape that supposedly belonged to her in the wolf’s den. There was no grandma or heavy stones in the belly, though that may be a reference to wolfsbane or something, something “pulling” the werewolf down or causing him to be unable to move. Anyway, the tale was from a French Hunter, and they did kill the werewolf, which is pretty shitty, but, I don’t know, I thought the story was cool.”

Derek’s silent for a moment before he hums again. “It is interesting how often stories and myths are rooted in reality. My whole existence is a myth. Yours too. And yet here we are.”

“Here we are,” Stiles echoes.

He doesn’t say how crazy it is that they’re here together, mated together, despite the differences in who they are, both as supernatural beings and their personalities. How crazy it is that all this shit had to happen for them to be here. Both sides of Stiles’ family having to emigrate from Poland to a little town in Northern California, Derek’s family emigrating here from… Well, Stiles thinks he’s heard Scotland once before, and also France and England, but he knows part of Derek’s family is also from Mexico, and another from Brazil—so, basically, from wherever Derek’s family is from and how they all got together to move on and on to find each other in Beacon Hills and settle roots here before the town itself was even founded, Jacob Hale being the original founder of the town back in mid 1800s.

(Destiny, his mom called it once, and that he had ignored. Destiny that they found each other after all, that Claudia’s family and the Hales stayed in contact, that Stiles and Derek met.)

All of that had to happen just so the two of them could officially meet for the first time in a grocery store when they were four, strangely never once being introduced before that, like the universe always knew that they wouldn’t be ready until they were four.

And they weren’t even ready then. They aren’t ready now, necessarily, but they’re still trying. It’s still weird getting used to the touches and the handholding and realizing that he might actually be allowed to kiss Derek now, though he doesn’t dare try because they still haven’t talked about it and it’s weird and hard to talk about and it’s all so new, both for each of them to have a relationship but also because the affectionate stuff isn’t their relationship, it just isn’t.

This isn’t them, is it? They can never be like this.

Stiles clears his throat and extracts his hand from Derek’s grip, removing his other hand from his back. He sits back in his seat and pulls out his phone, pointedly ignoring Derek, who’s raised his head to look at Stiles now.

“I’m just gonna text everyone and make sure they’re all good and the twins haven’t started, like, eating people from the cafeteria,” Stiles explains, though he doesn’t actually think he needs to. But it makes him feel better and if it makes Derek stop looking at him, it’ll be all the better.

“Oh. Right, that’s a good idea,” Derek agrees quietly after a moment. He sits up properly and pulls out his own phone. “I’ll text my mom and tell her the twins joined school. We should probably should’ve told her yesterday when they first started walking around.”

“I tried to tell Isaac, but he didn’t believe me. I half-thought I was going crazy and that they weren’t actually here. But you’re right, we need to be more vigilant about making sure everyone stays safe.”

“Ourselves included,” Derek says and Stiles glances up to see his eyes are narrowed. Stiles feels the anger start to grow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You can’t just try to challenge an Alpha werewolf, Stiles, let alone two! And in the middle of a cafeteria with strangers who don’t know and innocent people and our friends! What did you think you were going to accomplish? You’re not strong enough to taken them on, on your own! You should’ve waited until I was there.”

“What, so you could protect me?” Stiles huffs incredulously.

“Yes!” Derek exclaims, throwing his hands up.

“I don’t need you to protect me! I can protect myself!”

Derek looks offended for a half second before he glowers and says, “Oh, yeah? You really protected yourself from the nalusa chito and the Alpha werewolf last weekend.”

Stiles gets a pang of hurt in his chest and he grits his teeth. “I was the one who sent the nalusa chito away!”

“Yeah, _after_ it hurt you, Cora, and threw Theo. Not to mention how the Alpha bit _three_ people before getting away.”

“You’re blaming me for that?!” Stiles gets to his feet. Derek stands too and immediately looks guilty, holding his hands out placatingly.

“No, I’m not, that’s not what I said—”

“But that’s what you meant!” Stiles huffs a laugh and grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. He starts toward the door.

“Wait, Stiles, what are we even—”

Stiles turns around to glare at him. “We’re _nowhere_ , by the way. We aren’t _anywhere_.”

Stiles prays Derek gets his meaning and thinks he does, because his face falls and the hand he was reaching out toward Stiles with drops, too. Stiles’ heart seizes again and he feels a bit like he might throw up, but he turns and exits the classroom without another word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, i know, okay, they're getting into another childish fight that's just a misunderstanding, but it will be okay, i promise and i am sorry DON'T WORRY it will be fine!
> 
> also! we found out the reason that the hales couldn't hear the teenagers, i promise they weren't being neglectful! there was some magic going on, that's all!
> 
> and we get to see more of the alpha twins! and what could they possibly be up to? we'll find out! (also: stiles is like cassandra, no one listens to him especially when it's important)
> 
> and derek and stiles, the babies sitting and talking and just being around each other. also the werewolf thing for little red riding hood is like partly a true story, i embellished a bit, but some people actually did believe the wolf was a werewolf
> 
> there's a reason derek gets rude at the end, just as there's a reason stiles gets snippy and defensive and pulls away. neither of them mean it, i'll say that now, their just overreacting and i am sorry we're going through this again, but i promise it all has a purpose! i'm excited for you all to see what's next!


	18. got a lot of scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What, is he paying you or something?"
> 
> "No, he's not paying me," Stiles hisses, his hands balling into fists.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings this chapter are for hurt/comfort, if you wanna call that a warning, and the whole kate/derek relationship. i will go ahead and say that in my story, they never actually had sex (of any kind) but there was kissing and behavior that could be considered grooming. she was quite a bit older than him (in high school and college while he was in junior high and high school) and their kiss took place when she was over 18 and he was underage. that's what this entire chapter deals with, their relationship and how everything happened, so here is a warning for it. it is kinda important to the story, but if it makes you uncomfortable, i would probably say skip this chapter. i know from experience that no matter how much time has passed, there are certain triggers that make an experience like derek's feel very fresh, and i don't want any of you to feel triggered in anyway. please, stay safe, y'all
> 
> chapter title comes from "i was a teenage werewolf" by the cramps

It’s… Awkward the next day at school. They pretty much avoid each other, and their friends are curious about Aiden and Ethan, but neither of them are much interested in telling anyone, instead sending them off to ask the other person like fighting parents and everyone knows that there’s some sort of issue between them and that they were like all touchy yesterday and now it’s a whole thing, which is exactly what Stiles didn’t want it to be, but here they are.

Here they are.

God, Stiles will never be able to use that phrase again.

He just feels really guilty, because he panicked and reacted poorly especially when Derek was just being concerned for his safety. He didn’t necessarily mean to say what he said, nor did he mean what he said, but now it’s out there and it’s going to be all awkward and bad until he apologizes, which is something he absolutely does not want to do, but he knows he has to.

Friday afternoon is supposed to mean lacrosse practice, despite Stiles not really participating in lacrosse at the moment, but it’s raining—drizzling, really, but Stiles isn’t going to complain, he loves a day where he doesn’t have to run suicides—so he goes over to the Hales. He successfully avoided Derek all day, but he knows he can’t avoid him any longer. And the looks that all his friends were sending him today told him the same story.

(Also, he doesn’t know why they assume it’s automatically his fault? Like, it actually is in this instance, but that’s rude of them to outright assume. Whatever.)

He pulls into the long driveway just as he sees Derek exiting the house, donning his infamous leather jacket that makes him look at least twenty-five, but Stiles likes it.

Stiles clambers out of the Jeep and hurries across the lawn to meet Derek.

“Uh, hey, Derek, can we talk?” Stiles asks, wringing his hands together. Derek glances at him before striding past, heading toward the Camaro. Stiles follows him.

“I’m going to the store,” Derek tells him as he gets to the driver’s side, opening the door. Stiles pulls open the passenger side door.

“I’ll come with,” he says, ducking into the car before Derek can object. Derek just gets in the car and starts it, not saying anything. He pulls out of the driveway and turns the heater on before Stiles can ask, because it’s not really cold, but the rain does make everything wet, obviously, and Stiles’ hoodie is a little wet right now.

“Put your seatbelt on,” Derek grumbles, even though that’s exactly what Stiles is currently doing anyway. But he obeys and doesn’t say anything.

The drive is made in silence, mainly because Stiles can’t think of any way how to start this and Derek is clearly waiting for him to say something and is growing impatient, if the way he’s gripping the steering wheel is anything to go by. Stiles is seriously surprised that steering wheel isn’t more broken down than it is, given how often Derek drives angry.

But Stiles can’t work up anything to say, so they sit there in silence without the radio or anything to make this better until Derek pulls up to the grocery store. He turns off the car, unbuckles his seatbelt, and gets out, not slamming the door, probably because he’d break the car doing that, but definitely not shutting it softly. Stiles winces and gets out himself, shutting the door and hurrying to catch up with Derek, who’s already storming inside.

Right. So he probably needs to apologize quicker.

He gets inside and has to look around for a minute before he finds Derek in the produce section, already with a cart and picking out fruits and vegetables. He says nothing to Stiles, but leaves him with the cart, so Stiles takes that as a sign that he still wants Stiles there, he’s just a little pissed.

Stiles pushes the cart around while Derek drops things in, looking at a handwritten list he’s taken out of his pocket. It’s not until they get to the bread and chip aisle that Stiles finds his voice.

“Derek, I—”

“Derek _Hale_?” A sultry voice asks to the left of Derek. He turns toward the sound with an inquisitive expression, that immediately drops and closes off the second he sees who is asking for him.

Kate Argent stands there dressed in a tight purple tank top, snug jeans, and a leather jacket, seemingly unbothered by the light rain outside. She grins when she sees Derek and reaches a hand out to touch his arm in a way that’s not really friendly, but more like what you do when you’re flirting with someone. Derek doesn’t shrug her hand off from where it’s touching his now bare skin, since he’d taken his jacket off, though it’s obvious from his posture that he doesn’t want it there. Stiles is terribly confused as to what’s happening and wants to help, but isn’t sure how to.

“I thought that was you, slouching over here and away from people. That’s your usual M.O., isn’t it? Hiding in the dark?” Kate’s grin widens like she’s just said something hilarious, but nobody is laughing.

Stiles chooses this moment to laugh humorlessly, stepping around the cart and forward in front of Derek, which causes her hand to fall from Derek’s arm. Kate eyes him and pulls her hand back to cross her arms over her chest, an appreciative expression on her face.

“Well, aren’t you cute?” she teases, leaning forward a little as if to get a better look at him. “Odd, someone as cute as you hanging around someone like him.” She gestures toward Derek, who’s still not moving. “What, is he paying you or something?”

“No, he’s not paying me,” Stiles hisses, his hands balling into fists.

Kate grins lazily, like this conversation is the least of her concerns. “Ah. So, you’re settling, then. That’s a shame, you’re far too delicious for someone as weak and somber as Derek Hale. Take it from me. He’s real lucky to have you. I’m so sorry you have to deal with him.”

Her grin sharpens and Stiles has to give himself to the count of three to calm down before he speaks.

“I’m the lucky one. Derek is an amazing guy. Funny, sweet, smart, great to be around, thoughtful. And if you knew the first thing about Derek Hale, you’d know that there is no one on this whole planet that is better than him, no one as strong, or brave, or giving. But I suppose you wouldn’t know about any of that, what with your black heart. I’m not, and never will be, sorry that I get to be so lucky to be around Derek Hale, but I _am_ sorry that he and I ever had the misfortune of meeting you.”

Stiles doesn’t wait to hear her rebuttal, just turns around and starts herding Derek out of the store, leaving the cart where it is. He hears something explode behind them, like a bag popping, but he decides that’s a problem for a different day and he just needs to get Derek out of here.

They get out to the sidewalk and stand under the awning, the rain coming down harder now, looking far too much like sleet, angry and icy and full of malice. Stiles holds onto Derek’s biceps, looking at him for a moment. Derek is just standing there, holding his jacket in his hands, his face the most dejected Stiles has ever seen it. His eyes are downcast and his mouth is set in a pouty frown and he really looks like he might cry at any given moment, which is… Stiles doesn’t know how to fix this, he has no idea what to do and he’s starting to freak out a little.

But he has to focus on Derek. Derek needs him.

He takes his hands off Derek’s arms, which he doesn’t even seem to notice, and takes a deep breath.

“Derek? Bud? Can you tell me… How do I help you? How do I fix this? Are you—can you hear me? Is this some kind of a panic attack or something? What’s going on?”

Derek doesn’t respond, doesn’t move a single muscle, looking entirely shut down and unresponsive.

“Should I call your mom? Or—or I can call Laura or something? I just need you to talk to me, Derek, please. I don’t know what you want.”

Derek moves then, reaching for something in his pocket and pulls out his keys, giving them to Stiles before turning and walking off, not bothering to put his jacket on, the rain soaking him rather quickly as he goes. Stiles stares in shock for a minute before chasing after him.

He climbs in the front seat and glances at Derek sitting in the passenger seat with his seatbelt already on once to make sure he’s okay before he turns the car on and slowly peels out of the parking lot, trying not to focus on how Derek is actually letting him drive the Camaro, which is kind of a once in a lifetime experience, so of course he’s only doing it now while Derek is having a breakdown and Stiles is panicking over Derek having a breakdown.

They make this drive in silence, too, but for an entirely different reason and this time Stiles is the angry one. But not at Derek, no, he couldn’t possibly be mad at Derek for this. He’s mad because he doesn’t know why Derek is so upset, so unbelievably upset, and all he really does know is that it has to do with Kate Argent. But he doesn’t know how to fix it, and it’s not like it’s one of those times when someone is mad at him because he’s done something stupid and he just has to go apologize and promise not to do it again, because Derek is dangerously sad, in a way he wasn’t with that car accident with his parents and Laura in middle school, or when his grandfather passed away when they were eight. This is a completely different kind of sad and Stiles has no idea how to fix it, but he just wants it to go away, wants Derek to stop hurting.

When they get to the house and inside, Derek is soaking wet while Stiles’ hoodie took the brunt of the damage. They go up the front staircase because it’s easier than going to the back and risk having to talk to someone, though Stiles imagines he’ll need to tell them that someone else has to go grocery shopping.

They get into Derek’s room and Stiles drops Derek off on the bed before heading back down the hallway to the linen closet to grab two towels. He comes back to Derek’s room and shuts the door, heading over to one of the dressers and pulling out a T-shirt and sweats, adding it to the towel pile. He drops the towels and clothes on the bed and kneels in front of Derek.

He gently removes the jacket from his hand and puts it on the desk chair, gauging Derek’s expression before reaching and pulling Derek’s wet T-shirt off his body. Derek lets him, face never changing, shoulders drooped and sagging. Stiles then wraps one of the towels around Derek’s shoulders, which he takes and holds in place after a second, swallowing but not doing much else.

Stiles leans down and takes off his sneakers and his socks, puts them in a neat stack at the end of the bed. Then he helps Derek stand up and looks at him in the eyes, or as close as he can get.

“I’m going to take off your pants, okay? They’re wet. We’re gonna change into something comfier,” he tells Derek. Derek, again after a second, like his brain is working slowly, nods, and Stiles takes that as a sign to reach down and unbutton Derek’s jeans with shaky hands. He can’t believe the first time he gets close to Derek’s dick is because their mutual friend’s older sister has made him have a weird dissociative episode, but he tries to ignore that.

He gets Derek’s pants wriggled off his hips and helps Derek get out of them, taking the wet jeans and the T-shirt and setting them perched on the lid of the hamper. Then he takes the sweats from the bed and helps Derek into them, one leg at a time, pulling them up around his waist. He reaches up and takes the towel around Derek’s shoulders, stretching his arms to run the towel through his hair, try to make it a little more dry, before tossing the towel on top of the hamper as well.

He lets Derek sit back on the bed—moving the second towel into the spot that got wet itself from where Derek had sat with his wet jeans—and helps him pull the T-shirt on before he takes his own hoodie and T-shirt off. He kicks off his shoes and socks and kicks off his jeans, putting the wet clothes on the hamper, before returning to the drawer with T-shirts and sweats, pulling out a pair for himself. Both of the clothing items are too big on him—the T-shirt hangs kind of awkwardly and is baggy around his neck, and the pants don’t stay up all that well, even with the drawstring pulled tightly—but they’ll have to do for now.

He sits next to Derek on the bed, unsure of the next step. They both sit there for a minute, Derek staring ahead blankly with his hands resting on his knees with Stiles staring blankly, too, until his eyes focus in on a spot on Derek’s forearm, the spot he just knows Kate Argent touched, knows without knowing exactly how he knows that it’s that exact spot, because there’s no physical evidence of that.

Before he can stop himself, Stiles reaches out and splays his hand over the spot, pushing down a little to really make sure his scent is there. Derek’s head turns to watch him do this, calmly and methodically running his hand over Derek’s forearm to ensure there’s no residual traces of her anywhere.

He does this for a few minutes before he takes his other hand and picks up Derek’s hand, bringing his forearm to his lips. He kisses the spot, rubs his cheek against it, interlocking his fingers with Derek and making sure Derek, and anyone else who touches Derek, knows that Derek is not anybody else’s but Stiles.

(It’s a scarily possessive thought that he shouldn’t be having right now, especially with the fight they just got into, that Stiles still hasn’t apologized for, but he can’t help but stake his claim. Kate Argent tried to take what was his, he can’t allow that to happen.)

It’s another few minutes before Derek is shifting, pulling his arm out of Stiles’ grasp—which puts Stiles in a panic for half a second—before he wraps both arms around Stiles and pulls him up the bed, laying them down on the pillows. Stiles lays with his back flat, pulling Derek to lay on top of him, resting his cheek on Derek’s head. He feels Derek lean in and kiss Stiles’ exposed collarbone, his hands wrapped tightly around Stiles’ middle, their legs mostly intertwined. Stiles scratches Derek’s back gently, his other hand resting on Derek’s arm.

He doesn’t speak or hum or anything, neither of them do, too scared to break the silence and trust that they’ve built, the pouring rain working as their soundtrack. He just keeps scratching Derek’s back and rubbing his arm until sleep takes ahold of them and everything goes quiet.

+++

Derek wakes up first, or at least, he’s awake by the time Stiles wakes up, but Stiles really has no idea how long he’s actually been awake for and he still looks pretty groggy. It’s still raining steadily and the room has taken over a blue hue, which is almost too perfect for the mood of the day.

Stiles still doesn’t say anything, but he shuffles and moves so Derek’s head is no longer resting on Stiles’ chest, but so they’re more on level with each other and can make eye contact.

He hesitates for a moment before bringing up a shaky finger, reaching out and touching Derek’s eyebrow, stroking it gently. Derek doesn’t make a noise, but stares at Stiles with slightly widened eyes, like he doesn’t understand what’s happening fully. Stiles traces down the side of his face and back up, along his forehead before going down the straight jut of his noise, under his eyes, down to his chin, tentatively tracing the outline of his lips, which causes Derek to lick his lips, accidentally licking the tip of Stiles’ finger though neither of them seem to notice or care.

And when Stiles has traced his face and lets his hand rest against the side of his head, Derek just wraps his arms tighter around Stiles and shifts up in the bed so their faces are closer than before.

Stiles opens his mouth to say something—anything, because the tension between them is palpable and he doesn’t know what to do—but Derek cuts him off.

“I met her a couple years ago,” Derek confesses quietly and quickly, like he’s afraid that if he doesn’t say it now, he never will. He won’t meet Stiles’ eyes though. “It was just for a meeting between my mother and Chris Argent, just a thing we do every so often to make sure the truce is intact. Chris handled all the truce stuff before he moved here because everyone thought Gerard, his dad, was too insane to actually do it properly. Didn’t stop him from letting Kate to live with Gerard, though, and that’s who raised her here in Beacon Hills. She was… Older than me and thought I was attractive, I guess. She always would talk to me even though Grant was closer to her age. I guess she was always there, but I never noticed her, not until she started noticing me. I was maybe twelve or thirteen when I first saw her…”

Derek swallows and blinks, clearing his throat. Stiles lets him catch himself.

“It started out just little things. You know, being so young and having an older girl notice you, especially a high school girl, it’s so… Exciting, playing cat and mouse like that. She’d comment on my clothes or ruffle my hair and say how she liked it grown out like that. Eventually, we got to the point where I would sneak out to go see her, and she’d pick me up in her car, far enough away that my family wouldn’t hear. We’d go to whatever stores were open that late or take a drive around the Preserve, down the back trails that are meant for animals. She didn’t care about anything, and, for some reason, I thought that was cool, especially when it seemed like what she actually did care about was me.”

Derek clears his throat again and Stiles knows he’s doing that when he feels he gets too personal with a part of the story. Stiles wants to comfort him more, but feels like it’d be inappropriate, so he just lets his thumb gently stroke Derek’s cheekbone and pray that’s enough for right now.

“She spent all that time telling me how no one understood me the way she did, no one would ever be like her for me, care about me the way she did. I just thought she actually loved me.” Big pause here, and when he speaks again, his voice is a little more wavering than it was before. “When I was fifteen, almost sixteen, she started getting more and more tactile. She was in her second year of college by that point, nineteen or twenty. I guess she’s home early now for spring break next week or something, I’m not sure. But, um, she would run her hands down my arms, the way we scent, you know, and run her fingers through my hair, down my neck. My wolf was so confused because she was scent marking me the way a-a mate would and it wasn’t like you—it wasn’t that you weren’t there, but we weren’t—”

Derek looks up at Stiles finally, something like desperation in his eyes. Stiles just nods, not wanting to speak because Derek needs to be able to finish this and get this all out on his own, but wanting to show that he’s listening, that he’s there.

Derek looks away again and hesitantly rubs his thumbs over Stiles’ ribs through his T-shirt, gathering his thoughts.

“To top it all off, she had something of yo—” Derek cuts himself off again, his face pulling together in pain for a moment before he shakes his head. “It doesn’t—the point is that my wolf was all confused and she knew what she was doing and one night we were sitting in her car in the Preserve and I was… Affected, and she leaned across the dash and I…” Derek makes a soft, sad noise, something like a whimper. “And I pulled back immediately after and she laughed and she said—” He swallows roughly. “She said, ‘No one will ever love a monster like you, Derek, not even your—’” Derek cuts himself off, ducking his head into Stiles’ chest.

Stiles immediately tightens his grip around Derek’s body, rubbing at his back while Derek hides his face in Stiles’ chest.

Stiles hates her. He hates Kate Argent more than he’s ever hated anyone in his entire life, more than he hates the Alpha twins or Deucalion or Scott’s dad, who drunkenly pushed Scott down the stairs, accident or not. Kate Argent is a vile, nasty, hateful bitch and if she knew what was good for her, she’d never show her face in this town again.

Stiles barely hears the storm picking up outside, barely catches the rolling thunder and the flashes of lightning, but it complements his mood quite well. He vows that no one will ever harm another hair on Derek’s head, not as long as he’s around and he’ll figure out a way to protect him even from the afterlife.

Over the last couple weeks, he’s realized nothing more than Derek is not who Stiles thought he was. Derek is thoughtful and loyal and protective and snarky and pretty damn funny and smart and sweet when he wants to be—

Stiles could go on and on and on. All he’s come to learn is that the Derek he’s spent the last twelve, almost thirteen years of his life learning about and getting to know is not the same Derek he’s come to know these past couple weeks. Or, he is, kinda. But, if anything, this new Derek is so much better, so much more real and genuine, someone who actually cares about his wellbeing and his thoughts and ideas and opinions and feelings. This Derek he knows now is his friend, his actual friend, someone he’s proud to know. Even if the mate bond doesn’t work out—which, it’s not like they don’t work out, but maybe Stiles and Derek just have a platonic bond after all, even if that thought makes Stiles feel a little nauseous—he’ll still have the Derek he’s grown to call, well, his person. If some shit goes down, he knows he’ll want to call Derek, whether or not he’ll actually call him because of whatever bullshit reason he concocts. Derek is just that guy. Like how he’s the Alpha for a pack that doesn’t even really exist, they just all implicitly trust him to be there and be what they need and they know he’ll do it.

No one deserves to have done to them what Kate did to Derek, Derek least of all. Stiles’ personal feelings aside—the ones he still can’t name properly and is too afraid to even think—Derek is a great person, and a better werewolf. Kate knows that he’s a werewolf, and she knows what she was doing confusing him with the scents. And Derek? Undeserving of love? That’s furthest from the truth.

If anything, Derek deserves love more than anybody. He’s, when you get past the rough exterior, one of the sweetest and nerdiest people Stiles has ever met, with the biggest love for old romance novels and older monster stories. He’s the guy who walks and carries Stiles home, who blushes when people tell him how great he’d be as their Alpha, who responds to Stiles’ comments in the margins of his books. Stiles wouldn’t be surprised if he found one of these days that Derek surprised him with his favorite flowers or something equally cheesy. That’s just who Derek is. And he deserves so much more than what he’s got, what Kate’s given him, definitely, and what Stiles has tentatively left for him.

Stiles, despite it, vows to be the one to give him everything.

Finally, Stiles finds his voice behind the anger.

“Derek, what Kate Argent did to you, and whatever you might have done, that’s not your fault. She tricked you and lied to you and hurt you. You were a child, you still are. She’s a grown adult and she knew exactly what she was doing the whole time. You didn’t deserve that. God, Derek, you deserve so much more than that, so much more.” Stiles leans in closer, pressing his face against the top of Derek’s head. “Kate should have never laid a finger on you and I wish you never had to experience that and I am so sorry that you did. But I need you to know that what she said wasn’t true. You deserve so much, Derek, so much more love than the world even has capacity for. You deserve your name to be screamed off of rooftops because that’s how much someone loves you. Or writing it in the air with a sky writer. Or tattooing your name on their ass, or—”

Stiles feels Derek shaking beneath him and pulls back to see his eyes scrunched up, smile split open wide across his face as he laughs silently. Stiles can’t help but snicker, too, though he’s not entirely sure what they’re laughing about, but he loves seeing Derek look this happy and pleased, so he can’t help but grin, too. It’s contagious.

“Why are you laughing?” Stiles asks after a moment, as Derek begins to calm down.

Derek shakes his head and shifts up in the bed so that his face is back next to Stiles’. He looks at Stiles, still smiling like he can’t quite wipe it off his face. He brings one of his hands up to caress the side of Stiles’ face, and Stiles can’t help but think of how weird this all is, that he and Derek keep finding themselves in this position, curled together in someone’s bed, looking for all intents and purposes like a real couple, full of what might be love and other emotions too difficult to name.

“Thank you,” Derek whispers, barely heard over the sound of the pounding rain outside, the lightning still flashing and illuminating parts of the room in stark contrast of white light against the blue, dreary gloom of their surroundings.

His lips brush against Stiles’, not a kiss, but like a promise of one, future ones to come. He stares into Stiles’ eyes the whole time and Stiles is completely entranced unable to look anywhere else, to register the bright flashes, the nearby creaking and groaning of trees outside the sealed windows, the distant creatures of the forest scurrying to find shelter. Nothing matters in this moment but Derek and the way he’s looking at Stiles, like there’s little else in the world that is important to him. And what a dangerous thought that would be…

Derek breaks the spell first, closing his eyes and shifting so he can snuggle back into Stiles’ arms. Stiles lets him, scratches his back and up by his neck again, which makes Derek shiver like it did in the classroom, and also make an odd purring noise that Stiles sends to the back of his mind for later analysis.

He closes his eyes and loses himself to the sound of the roaring storm lulling him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, i know, this entire chapter was hurt/comfort and kinda angsty, but i hope it made it worth it to see derek and stiles have a good, serious moment and put their silly bullshit aside in order to be there for each other (it's more stiles being there for derek, but you get the point). i think that's what's most important about their relationship is that no matter what silly, frivolous shit they go through, they're not going to let that get in the way of them being there for each other when it really counts (as derek has demonstrated before in the fic and now stiles can fully demonstrate). also, fuck kate argent
> 
> i kinda changed around the storyline because i had to in order for everything to work (because jfc kate did so much damage to the hales and her whole storyline is like that so like i had to undo basically everything and start over, not to include making her de-aged so it was less creepy (but, oh trust me, still VERY creepy what she did with derek)) so i'm sorry you're all working with something brand new, but i think that's sort of been the theme of this entire fic anyway so lol i mean it is an AU after all
> 
> derek letting stiles drive the camaro? that's a huge moment in my opinion, just throwing it out there. and allowing stiles to undress him, trusting him to do that, as well as giving him the story of what happened between him and kate. all important moments for derek's character that i was so happy to be able to give him. as i've said before and will say again, i really agree with stiles and thinks derek deserves the world
> 
> also! stiles' self-depreciation pops up super briefly in this chapter and might i just give y'all the tiniest spoiler that i think that'll be it for that for at least the next couple of chapters if not the rest of the fic. i will say that there will be moments, of course, where he'll doubt himself, but from here on, he will slowly start to get better. i want to give you guys hope so there it is
> 
> and the whole bogus "argument" thing in the classroom with be dealt with among other things, but not for like two more chapters, i think? three? there's some stuff we have to deal with first
> 
> lastly, i hope i did this justice. i only know my own experiences, and they're nothing like derek's, and i wanted to stay as true to his character as i could while still giving him a voice. and while i'm not sure if this will help someone, i will say that what has helped me was telling someone, even if only for your own peace of mind and the fact that another person, who you trust implicitly, knows. i'm afraid i don't have better advice than that, but if you need to hear it, someone will care, i promise, you just have to find the right someone. that's all i can really say.
> 
> sorry this is long, thank you for reading everyone, more soon <3


	19. drippin' with alchemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, this is going to be fun."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> firstly, sorry this is late. it isn't actually late, but it's late for me and i apologize. it was a rough morning lol but it's fine. i also wanna apologize because there's like very little stiles and derek together in this chapter, but it's a necessary evil, i'm sorry. also sorry about the slight angst again, but i swear it really is getting better. either next chapter or chapter after that is great and i can't wait for y'all to read it
> 
> chapter title comes from "heads will roll" by yeah yeah yeahs

Stiles is leaving his house the next day to return to the Hale House when he pulls open the front door and Jennifer, Kali’s Emissary of all people, is standing there. She looks a little frightened, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. Stiles stares at her in shock for a moment before he gathers himself.

“Uh, Jennifer, are you okay?” he asks.

She glances over her shoulder, clearly shaken up, before looking back at him.

“I’m sorry to show up announced. I didn’t even know this was your house until I saw the Jeep in the front yard. I was just, um, I was in the woods and there was a— _something_ and I only got a look, but if it’s what I think it is, I want someone else there with me. Will you come?”

Stiles has this weird feeling like he shouldn’t go with her, but he doesn’t know why. Here’s Jennifer, innocent for the most part, not directly guilty of anything other than putting a couple people on edge—but Lydia and like, all of the Hale girls do that, too, so—and simply asking Stiles to go with her.

He knows he probably shouldn’t because he’s inexperienced with his spark and Jennifer is the Emissary for Kali and therefore one of the potential threats that Peter listed, but something in him pulls towards Jennifer, something wants to help her, despite the risk. He’s also insatiably curious about what’s happening and what she’s found.

So he says, “Um, okay,” and closes the door behind him, gesturing ahead. “Lead the way.”

Jennifer gives him a grateful smile and gestures for him to follow her. She runs around to the backside of the house and goes into the woods that way, which is the way Stiles ran from the nalusa chito and where he and Scott came in when the Alpha werewolf attacked, so Stiles automatically has an uneasy feeling when they come this way. He braves it though, especially with Jennifer leading the charge, direct and confident like she knows exactly what she’s looking for, which Stiles supposes she does, but it’s such a stark contrast from the timid and scared demeanor she was just displaying, which is a little weird, but Stiles figures it’s probably less scary with a second person there.

They walk for quite some time without saying anything. Jennifer doesn’t ask him questions or offer information, just keeps moving forward. He doesn’t really have anything to say either, just a lot of questions, but he doesn’t wanna put those on Jennifer right now, especially when he’s not entirely sure she can answer half of them.

Finally, and Stiles has no idea how much time has passed, they reach a large clearing where there’s a huge base of a tree. Stiles isn’t the best at measuring distance, but it looks like an average person could easily lay flat across the trunk’s surface and probably still have some room left over, like even Derek, who’s not crazy tall, but is definitely 6’0” minimum, could take a nice nap there. It’s all misty and almost grayish on the surface, with far too many rings to count, which Stiles knows shows just how old it really is.

Jennifer approaches it cautiously, not afraid to get right up and touch it when she’s close enough, carefully running her fingers over the grooves and rings like she’s running her fingers down the spine of an old, beloved book.

“It’s a Nemeton,” she says a little breathlessly. “Named after the old druids’ sacred space in a grove. It’s sacred in and of itself. You know, names like that have power.” She looks up at Stiles. “The old names, the old magic, it’s very powerful stuff.” She gestures back to the Nemeton. “One spark can ignite the magic in this Nemeton, restore it, make it quite dangerous…”

Jennifer laughs and takes her hand off, waving it slightly. “But I think it’s perfectly safe right now. It appears to have been drained of its former magic.”

“How can you tell?” Stiles asks, stepping closer to the tree, but definitely not touching it.

“I would be able to feel it. And so would you,” Jennifer tells him, dusting her hands off together, clearing any dirt. “The Nemeton is a powerful energy source—”

“Like an arc reactor?”

Jennifer smirks. “Sure, but more in a super _natural_ sort of way than a super _hero_ sort of way. But yes, it’s very powerful when it’s working.” Then her face drops and she looks around a bit nervously. “It’s been known to draw dark creatures to it. I saw something dark when I first came here, that’s what scared me away so bad. I wonder if your shadow being is out to get other members of the Pack?”

Stiles shakes his head. “What? No, no way. That’s not possible,” he stresses.

Jennifer makes a dubious face and pulls up her sleeve to show her wrist. There’s five scratches there, wrapping around her wrist and shaped like a hand, like something tried to grab her. And they’re all ashy and sooty just like Stiles’ scratch was, which is all but healed now, just one small reddish pink mark on his skin, the soot and ash having slowly reduced throughout the healing process until it was gone.

But surely it couldn’t be after other members of the Pack? Why would it go after them, after all this time? Sure, he and his friends were attacked, but the nalusa chito specifically never seemed to attack his friends unless they were in way, it always seemed to go after Stiles. The Alpha werewolf was the wild card, never knowing who it would go after, though Stiles just assumed it was anyone closest proximity wise, or maybe closest to Stiles. Though that doesn’t make much sense for Isaac, who he’s close to, sure, but not like he is some of the Hale kids or Allison. It doesn’t make sense for Jackson either though, so that theory only works with Scott and Lydia.

But why would the nalusa chito be going after the Pack members? Especially someone like Jennifer, which, no offense, but Stiles has literally no connection with her. Unless… Unless she’s right about the Nemeton drawing supernatural creatures to it, and the magic user who summoned it used this space to do so, which might’ve not charged the Nemeton, but still brought the creatures—the nalusa chito, at least, Stiles prays there’s no more creatures—to home base every now and again, like it’s protecting the space or something? And Jennifer accidentally stumbled upon the Nemeton and the nalusa chito showed up to protect the space, or was on its way home from doing whatever it does when Stiles isn’t being actively terrorized.

It’s a miracle Jennifer even got away. She’s gotta be quite strong herself, or maybe things like nalusa chitos are relatively child’s play to natural druids like her, Stiles wouldn’t know.

“I’m not sure that it’s coming after the Pack so much as protecting the space maybe,” Stiles says, glancing around the clearing. But if that theory was true, shouldn’t it be here now to defend the area? Maybe it needs to rest and recharge after each attack, maybe it can’t attack in the daylight like this, like the encounter with Jennifer was a one-off accident. Even with all the information they’ve acquired, they’re still running on no information.

“Whatever it’s doing, I think we should tell Talia,” he declares, looking back at Jennifer. She gets a slightly bitter look on her face.

“What good is that gonna do? What good has telling the Great Alpha done? Talia couldn’t even protect you when your friends got bit. Until Talia finds the magic user, we’re all on our own,” Jennifer says despondently.

Stiles thinks about it. As much as he hates to admit it, to go against Talia, she has a good point. His life has been nothing but a shit show for these past few weeks, and Talia’s been unable to do anything. She’s always shown up after the fighting’s all done, after everyone’s been hurt and Stiles has to deal with the emotional damage he’s been dealt, the guilt and the sorrow and rage he has every right to feel, deserves to feel. All he’s done is feel like he’s failed, time and time again: with the nalusa chito, with the Alpha werewolf, with protecting his loved ones, hell, even with his bond with Derek, which is a whole other topic he’s angry about.

But they are on their own. They’ve been on their own this whole time, Stiles has been on his own. The only person who’s been consistently by his side and on his side and fighting against these monsters is himself.

Jennifer’s right. What good is Talia gonna do?

He’s on his own.

Stiles guesses it must show in his face or something what he’s thinking about, because Jennifer clucks her tongue and gently pulls him over to sit down on the Nemeton.

“I just want everything to go back to normal. It just keeps getting worse and worse and I want it to all go back to how it was before. I mean—” He laughs humorlessly “—I have no idea how to use this spark in me, Derek and I are in a really weird place that I don’t know how to navigate, and all my friends keep getting hurt because of me, pulled into the supernatural world when they could’ve had a normal life. If only they weren’t friends with me.” Stiles stares down at his hands.

Jennifer puts a hand on his back and rubs gently, like a mother would. She says, “It’s not your fault, Stiles. Your friends getting hurt, that’s not your fault, there’s nothing you could’ve done to stop it—”

“But if I knew how to use my spark, I could’ve stopped it,” he protests, looking over at her. “If I knew what I was doing, I could’ve saved them.”

“Aren’t you training with Deaton?”

“Yeah, but I’m not actually learning anything. And he’s all patient and keeps saying that I’ll get it in due time, but I can’t wait anymore. I have to be able to help the people I love.”

Jennifer’s face softens and she squeezes his arm with her free hand. “You have such a bright soul,” she compliments. Then she shrugs a shoulder and says, “I could teach you.”

“You—what?”

“Well, I don’t know anything about being a spark, surely less than Deaton, but I know how to use druid magic. I can teach you what I know,” she offers.

Stiles perks up, her hand falling from his back with the movement. “You would? Really?”

Jennifer laughs. “Sure, why not? I always did want to be a teacher when I was younger.”

Stiles can’t help himself as he throws his arms around her shoulder and pulls her into an awkward hug. “Thank you so much!” He lets go of her and sits back. “Any extra help, I’ll take it.”

Jennifer grins. “Great. I’m happy to show you what I know.” She then makes a gentle face. “And as for Derek…”

Stiles groans slightly and drops her gaze. Jennifer laughs again.

“Listen, I can’t say I know what you’re going through exactly, but I know that relationships are tough, especially when there are expectations. And, just from what I’ve heard in the rumor mill, you and Derek have an interesting relationship. I can’t exactly tell you what to do either, you have to do what you think is right for yourself, but I can say that if I was in your position, I wouldn’t be happy at all.”

“What, why?” Stiles looks up at her and Jennifer looks a bit sheepish.

“I don’t wanna spread rumors—”

“Tell me, c’mon,” he presses.

Jennifer sighs. “Derek’s an attractive kid, right? He’s got all the makings of being popular if he didn’t have such a foul attitude and chased after the wrong things.” Jennifer scrunches her nose up. Stiles doesn’t know what she means by that, but she keeps talking. “But he seems to constantly be putting you down or leaving you out. It seems like he’s very cognizant of who’s the werewolf and who’s the human, if you catch my meaning. Or spark, I should say.”

“What? No, Derek’s not like that at all,” Stiles defends.

“Really? Because it seems to me that you two’s relationship your whole lives has been you chasing him and he not responding and not caring. Seems pretty cold and loveless to me. But he seems to like playing doting mate when the Pack is here.”

Stiles feels cold all over. It’s exactly what he thinks, but hearing someone else say it aloud is a whole different scenario. Derek _is_ distant and cold and even when they kissed that one time in Derek’s bed, Stiles had this gut feeling that Derek is only doing all of this—all this nice and kind and loving Derek that he’s been—it’s all for show, for someone else, and not because he actually cares, like _that_ , about Stiles.

The fact that someone else has noticed it makes Stiles feel sick, especially an outsider. This is all they see when they see Stiles and Derek together: a werewolf who has no desire to be stuck in this bond with his hyperactive spaz of a mate.

Stiles might really be sick.

“Oh, no, honey, I didn’t mean to upset you!” Jennifer tries to put a hand on him to console him again, but he shakes it off, shaking his head and holding his stomach.

“You didn’t,” he lies, and they both can tell.

“I’m sure you two will work it out. You’re mates after all. The universe has paired you two together for a reason. It’ll all work out, trust me,” Jennifer soothes.

Stiles takes a couple deep breaths to stave off the lingering beginnings of a panic attack and straightens, swallowing. He looks over at her and musters a weak smile.

“I’m sure you’re right. It’ll be fine,” he lies again. Jennifer still doesn’t call him out on it, instead smiling gently before getting off the Nemeton and offering him her hand.

“I’ll walk you to the Hale House. It’s not far from here. That’s where you were going in such a rush this morning, right?”

Stiles nods, though now he’s not sure he wants to go there anymore.

The walk from the Nemeton is just as silent as the walk to it was. There’s the chittering of birds and the crunching of twigs under their feet, a blue sky above them covered by canopies of green leaves as spring is now officially here and reclaiming the earth. It’s peaceful and beautiful and yet all Stiles can think about is how much he doesn’t want to see Derek anymore.

He should be pissed. He has a right to be pissed. He _is_ pissed. But he’s also sad, incredibly, deeply sad. Because all he can think about is how right he was, all along. And there’s nothing worse than confirming your darkest suspicions and having them be true.

It’s bittersweet and melancholy and Stiles just wants a blanket and a warm hug from his mom right now.

When they get to the Hale House, Jennifer stops at the edge of the forest and gestures before them.

“This is your stop,” she says with a playful smile. Stiles manages to give her one back.

“Thank you, Jennifer. For everything. I was kind of unsure of you at first, because of all the Alphas and everything, but you’re a really cool person. Thanks.”

Jennifer smiles and carefully pats Stiles’ shoulder in a friendly manner. “You’re pretty cool, too, Stiles. I’ll contact you about training soon.”

She turns to go back into the woods before Stiles calls out to her. “Don’t you need my number?”

“I’ll find it!” She calls back with a wink, before turning back and disappearing into the trees. Stiles stares after her for a minute before turning and heading toward the house, coming through the sliding back door in the kitchen.

Derek, of course, is in the kitchen, and turns and smiles softly at Stiles. The sight an hour ago would’ve filled Stiles’ stomach with butterflies, but now just fills him with dread.

“Hey,” Derek breathes, his adorable bunny teeth showing as his smile widens. Stiles looks away, because his heart’s a little too sore for that sight right now.

“Um, hey,” Stiles says, looking around the kitchen for something to distract himself. Of course, because he followed Jennifer out of the house, all he has is his phone and his keys, but no car or backpack, so no reading material, no laptop, no homework, not that he really has any as they’re pretty much in spring break now. He’s drastically underprepared for this to be happening right now. “Do you know where Theo is?”

Derek’s smile falls a little and he blinks. “Oh, uh, probably in her room?” Stiles nods and starts to head up the staircase. “Wait! Did you want to maybe—”

“Got to talk to Theo about something!” Stiles interrupts and heads upstairs quickly, running a hand through his hair once he makes it into the upstairs hallway.

He starts to walk toward Theo’s room when someone steps out in front of him from around a corner.

“Jesus Christ!” Stiles exclaims, startling. Peter smiles down at him, canines practically sparkling. “Dude!”

Peter’s smile dies down a bit and he tilts his head to the side, truly looking like a real canine. “You look like you could use a game of chess,” he says.

Stiles sighs and glances past him at Theo’s closed door and then over his shoulder, to where Derek is just now coming up the staircase, and still hasn’t seen him yet. Stiles quickly ducks around the corner, pulling Peter with him. Peter follows, but grins like this is the funniest shit that could happen to him.

“Trouble in paradise?” he asks. Stiles glares.

“If I play you in chess, will you stop being such an asshole?”

Peter seems to contemplate this for a second before walking down the hall toward the main staircase.

“Unlikely,” he calls over his shoulder, flashing another lupine grin up at Stiles. Stiles huffs, but goes after him.

+++

The library Peter likes to sit in is the library that’s two stories, the first floor being quite open with a few protruding bookshelves, the walls all lined with books, while the second floor, accessible via a metal spiral staircase or the door leading to one of the upstairs hallways, is more of a catwalk display and has all the walls covered in bookshelves, save the front southern wall, like downstairs, which has a massive window overlooking the property. The second floor is mainly used for getting books, no real place to sit up there other than a lonely chair or two wedged into the corner. But the first floor has a couple of nice leather couches, multiple comfy armchairs, a couple desks for research and a chess table sat just behind the largest couch, an ornate white one, with carved leaves and ivory and obsidian pieces, a very expensive and thoughtful gift from Peter’s late wife, one he only lets a few people play with, Stiles being one of them. Well, actually, Stiles being the only one.

Peter sets up the board and starts first, as he always does. They move in silence for quite a while, until Peter manages a checkmate and announces the move.

“You’re failing more spectacularly than you normally do,” Peter comments, in good nature. He smirks, but when he sees Stiles doesn’t return it, it drops away. “What’s bothering you?” he asks, setting up the game again. “I’m not as omnipotent as I might seem.”

“It’s really nothing,” Stiles protests.

Peter looks at him and inhales before saying, “‘The moon has awoken with the sleep of the sun. The light has been broken, the spell has begun.’” Stiles furrows his eyebrows at the quote, but Peter continues as if nothing is out of the ordinary. “Do you know why you’re my favorite?”

The question shocks Stiles slightly. Stiles pretty much knows that Peter favors him above the other Hales and pretty much anyone else Peter knows, even his own daughter at times, but it’s still jarring to hear. He shakes his head.

Peter clears his throat and commences the game, gesturing for them to play as he speaks. “I met you when you and Malia and Derek were all four. You were an insatiably curious little kid, constantly getting into things you weren’t supposed to be getting into and climbing shelves and knocking books down. I couldn’t stand you.”

Stiles barks out a laugh at the bluntness of the statement, which makes Peter smirk before he continues.

“But there was something charming about you, old and learned, even in your tiny body. I was… Not myself during that time, you know, and everyone gave me space, even my own daughter, who was too young to have to go through that alone. But not you. You would not leave me alone, ever. The first few times, someone herded you away from me, told you to leave me alone. But you wouldn’t. You kept pushing.

“When you tried again, my big sister tried to pull you away from me, but I told her no, it was okay. They all watched to see what I would do, if I would turn or freak out on you. But you just pointed at my book and asked why it had no pictures.” Peter grins fondly at the memory. “I laughed for the first time in five years that day. Talia cried, the big baby, and Malia, I think I startled her.” Peter chuckles. “Poor girl had never heard me laugh in her life. But then I started reading to you. Shakespeare, Tolstoy, Nietzsche. You loved it all, soaked up every word. Your vocabulary grew and grew just like your knowledge. You and your little brain inspired me to take better care of my own daughter, but I, admittedly, was always disappointed she never had your spark.” Peter smirks at the wordplay.

“That being said, there are many ways I cannot compare the two of you, where she succeeds and you fail and vice versa, but you… You are a genius, Stiles, truly. Fully gifted and, if you didn’t have the ADHD, your academics would reflect it better. I’ve never known anyone as smart as you, besides Malia’s mother, of course. Perhaps that’s why I’m so fond of you; you resemble her so fiercely.” His smile grows somber for a moment, the chess game forgotten between them, before he looks back at Stiles with sharp eyes. “You’re exceptionally bright, Stiles, and I’m afraid you can’t hide much from me. It would be an utter shame to see that spark which makes you so special disappear for whatever reason. Just remember: ‘fair is foul and foul is fair.’”

With that, Peter stands up and exits the room, abandoning the game. Stiles stares after him, taking in the entirety of what he said. He sighs and turns back to face the board.

They had reached checkmate, and it was Stiles with the advantage. He stares at the board, baffled.

+++

Stiles hitched a ride home from Theo later that night, who asked why Derek wasn’t doing this, but thankfully didn’t press when Stiles said nothing. Now it’s late at night and Stiles is laying on top of his sheets and staring up at the ceiling, trying to process the rollercoaster of emotions from today.

He doesn’t really know where he and Derek stand. Everything is weird and unsure and—God. He likes Derek, okay, he’s clearly figured that out by now. He likes kissing Derek, he likes touching Derek, he likes being around Derek and laughing with him and joking with him and being really good—if not, best—friends with him. He doesn’t know what that means other than that. Would he like to have a relationship with Derek? Absolutely. Would he like to be Derek’s mate? No question. Does he think Derek even slightly reciprocates those emotions or feelings? Not a chance. Well, maybe. He’s not sure.

He almost 100% confident that Derek finds him at least physically attractive, for whatever reason. That’s why he kissed him, that’s the logical explanation. But you can kiss someone without feelings, people do it all the time. And he’s been nice and patient and acting like a great mate these past few weeks, sure, but before then? There was hardly any communication and only when forced, absolutely necessary, or when one of them was feeling majorly sad (which excludes whatever happened with Derek and Kate Argent a year or so ago, because Derek completely shut Stiles out for that, despite him being so upset by it, and Stiles eventually dropped it, but he never forgot and still hasn’t, Derek only confirming what Stiles feared a few days ago not helping the situation).

So how can he play happy mate and pretend that everything is fine when Derek’s the one who’s been hot and cold to him? How can he apologize like he did that one time before the Bestiary drama, for essentially being a bad mate, when he was never really—entirely, he should say—the problem to start with? When this is Derek’s fault, when Derek is the one who hates him, when Derek has the issue.

He angrily turns over onto his side and brews in his anger for a moment before reaching out to pull out his phone and give Derek a piece of his mind when the phone goes off in his hands and makes him startle. He recovers and picks it up off the bed, looking at the screen.

There’s a new message from an unknown number that says:

Unknown

_Ready to get to work? -Jennifer_

Stiles looks at the time and bites his lip before writing back:

_name th time n place_

Jennifer

_Right now. Nemeton. Think you can find your way back?_

_yah_

Stiles rolls out of bed and starts putting his shoes on.

+++

“We’re gonna be starting with some simple magic first, okay? Just to gauge where you’re at,” Jennifer tells him as he stands facing the Nemeton, a covering and candles resting on its surface.

“Oh, I promise you it’s not going to be very far,” Stiles says, and takes a deep breath to clear his mind.

Jennifer laughs. “That’s okay, just focus.”

Stiles peeks an eye open. “Are you sure we’re safe out here with the nalusa chito on the loose?”

Jennifer hums. “Well, you should stop speaking its name for starters, unless you want to conjure it.”

Stiles closes his eye and mimes zipping his lips.

“The shadow being won’t come tonight, I’ve warded the clearing.”

“Warded?” Stiles opens his eyes to look at her.

“Putting up wards. We can discuss that at a later date. For now, focus on the candles, please, and try to ignite one of them,” Jennifer dismisses, gesturing to the unlit candles.

Stiles takes another deep breath before concentrating with his mind, really trying to imagine that one of the candles is on fire, that any of them are on fire.

He sighs, frustrated. “It’s not working. None of them are lighting.”

“Try working with just one target to start with. It might be confusing to have so many at first. Here, why don’t I give you a demonstration?”

She steps closer to the Nemeton and holds her hand out near the candles, a small flame building to life in her palm, not actually from it, but more like being pulled together from the air surrounding her palm.

“Druid magic works heavily with nature and the natural forces. We move the magic around us and convert it into power. The elements come rather easy to druids, as we all give and protect Mother Nature and in return, she shows us how to use her gifts.” Jennifer uses the fire in her palm and makes a sweeping motion across the top of the candles, lighting almost all of them as she goes, using up the fire in her palm. Then, she takes a step back and claps her arms and hands together in a big gesture, aimed at the candles, which all blow out like they were candles on a giant’s birthday cake and he just made a wish.

“Try pulling from the nature around you.” Stiles immediately opens his palm and tries to imagine all the molecules of the air coming together in his palm and heating up together. “‘From a little spark may burst a flame,’” she quotes, and Stiles glances over, but her face shows nothing, so he turns back to his hand and keeps concentrating. “Now, it might be hard, but don’t get discouraged if you don’t—”

A flame bursts to life in his hand, blue and bigger than the one Jennifer just had. Her words die off when she sees it.

“I did it!” he cheers. It’s officially the most he’s ever done with magic, at least intentionally. He laughs and runs his fingers through the flame to test if it’s real. It appears to be, but it doesn’t burn him when he touches it, which is interesting.

“That you did,” Jennifer says a little stilted. But when Stiles looks over, she’s smiling brightly at him. “Congratulations. Now light the candles.”

He copies the motion Jennifer made, sweeping his palm across the table. Every single candle lights up, but the fire in his hand doesn’t go out. He tries to wave it away, but it stays. He then imagines the flame slowly fading out until it fizzles back into plain old air molecules and it works, he watches as the flame slowly dies and disappears. Then he turns back to the candles and repeats the clapping motion as well, and all the candles extinguish, some of them being knocked over by the gust of wind, rolling off the Nemeton and onto the forest floor.

Stiles grins and turns to Jennifer, who is smirking proudly.

“So what’s next?” he asks.

She throws her head back and laughs.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a plot heavy chapter with a light dose of sterek angst and i apologize for that, we'll have more fluff soon
> 
> i think the most exciting thing is getting to see stiles use more of his spark and show off what he's capable of. we also get to see his relationship with jennifer and finding a teacher that actually works for him, which is super exciting for him!
> 
> also peter loves stiles very much, even if he doesn't outwardly say it and that's largely what i wanted to put in this chapter, because i know you guys love their relationship and i do too
> 
> and i know how jennifer is in the show, but how do y'all feel about her here? i'm curious lol
> 
> that's all i have, but also i'm nearing the end like actually writing it and it's so dicey, like i'm so scared that i'm going to write something wrong and mess up the plot i've had going or i'm going to disappoint a reader or myself, but a) i will absolutely NOT give up on this story, as i've put my heart and soul into it, like i've literally never worked this hard on a story before and b) this story is my baby and i know that a lot of you are like devoted readers which is the coolest thing ever so to quote hamilton, i promise that i'll make y'all proud, and i will do my best to make this story perfect. thank you all so much for reading and sticking around, it really means the world to me <333


	20. they won't ever find me here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You should make Hallmark cards," he says after a few minutes. Theo snorts and shoves at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: stiles tries to stop being a dumbass due to popular demand and author's own desperation for sanity. also, author found a thesaurus
> 
> chapter title comes from "hollow moon (bad wolf)" by awolnation

Spring break comes quicker than anyone’s expecting. Lydia, Danny, and Jackson somehow convince their parents to let them go to Mexico, to Danny’s little cabin out there, which isn’t so little after all. Scott and Allison apparently spend the whole time together, just like Erica and Boyd, and Malia and Kira. Cora spends her time pining and texting Lydia, but snaps at anybody who asks about it, and Theo takes Isaac out most days of the week just to get him out of the house. Stiles knows that he’s probably supposed to be spending his time with Derek, but he can’t let go of that residual anger he has, can’t bring himself to just let this lie any longer.

It's actually Theo who approaches him about it, which is overall unsurprising considering she has the least filter out of anyone, which is really saying something. Stiles isn’t sure what exactly sets her off, but one day during spring break, he finds her waiting in his room when he goes back upstairs after breakfast.

“Agh!” he exclaims when he opens the door and she’s standing there silently with her arms crossed. “Jesus, Theo, what the fuck?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she says nonchalantly and takes a seat on his bed, relaxing back on her hands. “We gotta talk.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

Theo snorts and shakes her head, her curls bobbing with the movement. “It’s not, actually. It’s about you and how much of a dumbass you are.”

“Oh, gee, way to sugarcoat it, Theo.” Stiles flops next to her on the bed.

“I’m serious, Stilinski. This is about you and Derek and—”

“Oh, God, please don’t—”

“Stiles,” Theo snaps, her voice sharp and tense. Stiles shuts up and listens to her. “I was trying to be respectful of your boundaries both in the car and before because I know how much you struggle with this, but I frankly can’t stand it anymore. You and Derek are mates, okay, but what’s more than that is that you have a relationship that you’ve built and crafted over _years_ of knowing each other. And it hasn’t always been perfect and it’s not always great, but it’s yours and no one can take it away from you. All this hiding from Derek and getting nervous around him for no good goddamn reason is, honestly, annoying and pointless—” Stiles snorts and Theo ignores him “—and all you’re doing is causing headaches for yourself and the rest of us. Stiles, I love both of you more than anything in the world, but I can’t watch you turn away the people you love anymore. I don’t know what’s been going through your head recently, but get it out, because you’re just going to end up hurting Derek or yourself. I mean, you’re naturally a dumbass, but you’re not this much of a dumbass.”

Stiles blinks a few times as he processes the words. This much of a dumbass? Stiles doesn’t think he’s been bad recently, but does a dumbass know they’re a dumbass? He thinks about what she’s said. He is quite wishy-washy, primarily when it comes to his bond with Derek, which is probably just confusing for all parties, especially when just Friday they were cuddling in Derek’s room while Stiles talked Derek down from being upset over the Kate encounter, and the Saturday before that they were making out in Derek’s bed. And then there was the childish fight on Thursday, the ignoring Derek on Saturday because Jennifer said some stuff that got in his head (which, there is some stuff she said that he wants to talk to Derek about, but now there’s not nearly as much anger, just more confusion). He’s been all over the place with his feelings, and it’s clearly affected more than just him and Derek if Theo is sitting here angry about it, like she and Cora were that time after Scott got bit and Derek overheard him being rude even though he was just saying shit and not actually meaning any of it. And how Laura’s tried to step in and guide him, how his parents and Talia have, too.

Because his bond with Derek affects more than just him and Derek, it seems, and everyone caught in the crossfire is probably all turned around all the time because Stiles and Derek never have equal footing or give anyone a respite, much less each other. Stiles is constantly flip flopping, even if he doesn’t realize it or hasn’t in the past. Not that Derek isn’t, but maybe he isn’t as big a dumbass as Stiles is and has been.

“Oh,” is all he says, but Theo understands what he means and flops down next to him, both of them staring at the ceiling.

“It was almost funny at first,” she admits, “watching you two dance around each other, like you were moving to the wrong beat, each listening to your own song. Then the songs started overlapping each other and getting annoying, and then they got stuck on repeat, and now it’s like the radio’s gone haywire and all you hear is two wildly different songs blaring at top volume and the volume knob is broken and everything’s on fire—”

“Yes, I think I get it,” Stiles interrupts. Theo hums.

“You should talk to him. I mean, really talk to him.”

“I’m not sure he’ll wanna talk to me.”

Theo snorts and then hits him in the stomach for good measure. “What part of ‘don’t be a dumbass’ did you not understand?”

“I’m not being a dumbass! I’m just… Scared.”

“Stiles, I’m gonna tell you something that I probably shouldn’t because I know it’s going to force you to actually use that big brain of yours: Derek likes you. Take that however you want, but I know you need to hear it. Talking to him about your mate bond is not nearly as scary as you’re making it out to be.”

“But you don’t know, you’re not mated,” Stiles reminds her, not unkindly, and Theo knows this and laughs.

“And thank God I’m not, because apparently mating is just a clusterfuck, from what I’ve learned from you,” she teases, elbowing him in the side. Stiles elbows her back and she laughs again. “Look, Stiles, mating is just like any other relationship, okay? You have to work at it. I know you have this image of mates just perfectly fitting together in your head, but it’s not like that. I mean, you probably have a predisposition to like each other immediately more, but that doesn’t mean the relationship is automatically perfect. It takes hard work and time and love to make it perfect. Just like any other thing worth having in the world.”

Stiles lets a silence fill the air as he lets that sink in. “You should make Hallmark cards,” he says after a few minutes. Theo snorts and shoves at him.

“Shut up, I’m trying to do my duties as best friend slash cousin-in-law. Is it working?”

Stiles groans at the cousin-in-law thing, but nods his head. “I think it’s working. I need to talk to Derek.”

Theo throws her arms straight up in the air in celebration. “Yes! I am a genius! Everyone else is gonna be pissed that I was the one to get through to you, but their whole waiting it out shtick wasn’t working, considering you’re a total meathead when it comes to important things like this.”

“I resent that,” Stiles grumbles, curious as to who is everyone else. “Who all has been discussing this?”

“Mostly me, Cora, Scott, Allison, and occasionally Lydia and Laura. Sometimes Erica. I’m sure the others have talked about the fact that you have one brain cell, but only a few of us have really been grinding this.”

Stiles isn’t surprised and just nods his head. “That sounds about right. Can I take a tiny rain check on Derek?” Theo’s face darkens and Stiles rushes to clarify. “Like, I mean, do what I have to do today and talk to him later today or tomorrow. Just let me mentally prepare, okay, make a speech.”

“If you don’t talk to him by noon tomorrow, I’m locking you two in a closet together, sealing it with mountain ash, and you’re gonna work out your problems from there.”

“You know I can break mountain ash lines, right?”

Theo slaps him again and Stiles recoils.

“Okay! Okay! Jesus, stop hitting me so much.”

Theo looks over at him and says, “You know, I am proud of you. Even though it took me saying something to get your ass in gear, this is a big step and I’m proud of you for having the balls to take it.”

“Seriously. Hallmark. I’m drowning in the feels.”

Theo slaps him again.

+++

He’s kind of afraid of talking to Derek. Not because he thinks Derek will be violent or anything, because Derek’s not really that guy, despite what Stiles previously thought, and despite his tough exterior. No, Stiles is scared of the confrontation changing what they have right now, which it needs to, he knows, but it’s still scary.

So, while Stiles mentally prepares for that, he goes to Jennifer to train today. He’s so far spent most of his time with Jennifer, learning how to properly control and use his spark. He makes good progress with her, too, far better progress than what he was making with Deaton, who has noticed Stiles’ sudden mastery and is impressed, though surely he thinks he’s the one who taught Stiles, or that Stiles has miraculously learned on his own, more like it.

Because that’s the other thing. Stiles hasn’t exactly told anybody. Excluding Peter and that weird conversation where it seemed like he knew exactly what Stiles was doing (and Stiles still hasn’t sat down and analyzed all of _that_ ), no one knows that he’s working with Jennifer. Not Deaton, not his mother, certainly not Derek. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t want to tell anyone, but for some reason, it just feels safer not telling anyone and keeping it a secret for just a little while longer. Not forever, but just a couple training sessions more, long enough for her to really teach him something special. He thinks maybe he just likes the dramatics of it, that when there’s another fight, he’ll be able to whip around and use his spark and impress everybody because he suddenly is amazing, and then he’ll tell them he’s been training in secret to get strong.

And out of all this, Jennifer’s become a good friend. Every time Stiles has an issue in his personal life, which means anytime he’s thought of an issue with Derek or even just talking casually about his friends, he’ll go and talk to Jennifer and it’s just so nice to have an unbiased third party to give their opinion on the matter without letting their personal judgment cloud said opinion, which his friends and family do when it comes to all things Derek. Jennifer encourages Stiles to work things out with Derek, but she also recognizes that Derek isn’t always the best mate and he has a lot of stuff he should be apologizing for, for how he made Stiles feel, and the way he’s shunned him, and so on and so forth, which Stiles has to admit, he’d like to hear an apology for all that, too.

Stiles feels safe telling her these things, feels like he could tell Jennifer anything and she’d listen.

The only thing that’s a little… Odd about Jennifer, and thus makes Stiles wary, is the way she speaks in riddles. It’s not dissimilar to how Peter speaks in riddles and quotes about something. But Peter often talks like that when he’s trying to lead you to the answer or help you uncover something yourself without directly being involved in you discovering that something.

Jennifer, on the other hand, uses riddles and quotes and weird speaking mannerisms almost like she’s hiding something, which Stiles knows is a big assumption to make, but it’s just weird how she talks. And it’s often about sparks, which Stiles supposes is intentional, but it’s just… Odd.

Like the first night when they practiced, when she quoted Dante Alighieri for no reason. Or like yesterday, when they were practicing some spell work with dried herbs, she said, pretty much out of nowhere, “‘A spark is a little thing, yet it may kindle the world.’” Stiles looked over for some context, but it was almost like she wasn’t even talking to him, more like she was talking to herself. It was a little unsettling, but Stiles said nothing.

But there’s also been interesting quotes, like a few days ago, Stiles said something with the word ‘supernatural’ in it and Jennifer perked up and said, “The druid knows nothing in this world is supernatural. It is all natural.” Stiles recognized the quote immediately.

“Laurie Cabot,” he told her, the quote almost exactly the same, except she substituted ‘druid’ for ‘witch’, which left Stiles wondering if witches were even a thing.

Jennifer smiled with all her teeth, clearly proud. “Yes, the known witch.” And that confirmed that thought. “Very good. You have such a brilliant mind. Now, let’s talk sigils.”

Now, today, Stiles has just come into the clearing and he sees an honest to God cauldron sitting on the cloth that Jennifer always covers the Nemeton with. He once asked why she covered the Nemeton, and she said it was to prevent the energies from mixing, from their simple spell work and magic practice getting entwined with the Nemeton’s magic and potentially creating a dangerous reaction.

He’d asked why, then, was it safe to touch them, if they’re both magic. Jennifer had laughed and shook her head at him.

“We’re not magic,” she said, still smiling, like he was a child that she had to explain this slowly to. “We are able to control magic and manipulate it. Sometimes, if you’re lucky and you give your respects and gifts to the Ancient Ones, you are granted more powers and abilities, have a greater understanding of magic and the world we will inherit. But no one is made of magic.”

Stiles furrowed his eyebrows. That completely contradicted what his mother said, who is a spark and knows more on the subject, Stiles would think. “Even for sparks?” He asked to clarify. “And, Ancient Ones?”

“Yes, even for sparks,” she promised, though Stiles thought she wasn’t an expert on sparks, that’s what she said when they first started. He didn’t really trust her opinion on that. “And the Ancient Ones are the old druids and their spirits, the spirits of the forests, the water, the trees. They’ve been ancient for some time, though, druids have prayed to them and gave them offerings for centuries. I’m surprised your mother hasn’t told you about them before. Or Deaton, for that matter.”

Stiles made a ‘hmm’ noise and shrugged. “No, I can’t remember ever hearing about them, or reading about them in any books.”

“Typical,” Jennifer spat, tone suddenly venomous. Stiles stared at her, shocked by the quick change. “Modern druids have no respect for the ancient and natural ways anymore. It’s all wiccans and half-witches who think they know what they’re playing with, when, in reality, they have no idea. Ancient Druidry is a dying art, a bastardized practice, and people like that vet only perpetuate the cycle of death that’s slowly encompassing the entire stature.”

Stiles blinked, unsure of what to say to her rant. Jennifer was angrily staring off into the trees, seemingly lost in her own headspace. He didn’t realize that this was such a big thing, or that Jennifer was evidently so touchy about it.

“Oh, um…” He starts, not really sure where he’s gonna go with that. But then Jennifer straightens and snaps out of her reverie.

“Sorry, I’m a little… Sensitive about keeping tradition. It’s just that being a druid and being able to practice such amazing talents like this makes me want to protect it. It’s really all I have, all I am. I get a little worked up by the thought of someone ruining the culture,” Jennifer explained, looking a touch sheepish, but only like that on the surface, the expression didn’t seem to go very deep.

Stiles just nodded and forced a smile onto his face. “I get it, I’d feel the same way. Um, so, key parts of the body today, right?”

And Jennifer had grinned and slipped back into her normal self.

So, it’s weird here and there, but Stiles is trying not to judge her when she gets a little weird. He’d probably be upset too if someone was trying to ruin everything he had (not that he thinks Deaton or anyone is ruining the culture at all, but, granted, he doesn’t think he knows enough to weigh in).

He sees the cauldron for today’s practice and points to it, smiling and calling to her when he’s close enough, “‘Double, double toil and trouble/fire burn and cauldron bubble.’”

Jennifer looks up from a journal she’s flipping through and smiles at him before turning back to her journal. She’s been bringing that journal since the second time they met, and has briefly shown Stiles the inside of it. It’s covered and absolutely filled with some neat and some cramped notes, symbols, and rituals and some pretty well done drawings of ingredients or key points on the human body. It’s very well done, a near-complete guide to ancient Druidry, as Jennifer has called it. She often chooses her lesson plans by flipping through the book at random.

They’ve also chosen to meet in daylight, if only for spring break. Stiles is kind of curious though, because it’s been at least two months since the Five Packs came to town, and he knows they’re still here for the trial and that promise they made to Talia about catching the magic user who essentially put the hit out on Stiles, which no one has made any progress towards, at least not that they’re telling Stiles.

“Hey, so,” he starts when he’s close enough to set his backpack down in the grass near the Nemeton, “not that I don’t love having you here, but why is the Pack still here? I mean, don’t all the Alphas have their own territories to look after. What if there’s something going wrong in those territories?”

Jennifer hums and closes her journal to give Stiles her full attention, using her forefinger to keep her place.

“Yes, you’re absolutely right. If there is, say, a skirmish or something in one of the territories, it would fall to the Alpha of the territory to handle that. However, when the Alphas are away, the smaller Alphas in the territory, those being under the Territory Alpha, will protect and defend that area. So, basically, the remaining members who did not go with the Alpha and the pack or were sent home early on, they protect the territory until the Territory Alpha returns.

“As for the Pack currently here,” Jennifer sighs and waves her free hand, “They’re still all in a tizzy about the trial and the proceedings and whatnot. Though Kali did tell me that Deucalion is rather worked up now and is demanding the trial happen immediately, that it’s been put off for far too long. The Great Alpha—” She says this phrase sarcastically and with a slight curl of her lips “—is scrambling around, trying to put everything in place, find or plant evidence, I suppose.”

“You think she’d do that?” Stiles asks, because no. There’s no way Talia Hale would stoop so low as to plant evidence; she’s the most just and fair person Stiles knows.

“Talia and Satomi are BFFLs, Stiles,” Jennifer says with a bitter sounding laugh. “Don’t be so naïve as to think even she wouldn’t bail her closest friends out when they’re in a bind. And, besides, the trial is all formality. Pack law states that we can have a trial, but that it’s the Great Alpha’s decision in the end that determines the adjudication, whether or not to vote on a verdict. And Talia Hale is nothing if not a winner.”

“Why do you hate Talia so much?” Stiles asks without meaning to. But he hates hearing anyone talk down about the woman he sees as a mother; even if she does have faults, like everybody does, she doesn’t deserve to be so often crucified in Jennifer’s eyes, though he’s sure Jennifer wouldn’t call it a crucifixion, if only because that paints Talia as a martyr and Jennifer, evidently, would not want that.

Jennifer blinks, slightly taken aback. Then she leans forward slightly as if to get her point across clearly, but it makes her seem more intimidating and hateful in Stiles’ eyes.

“Talia Hale does not deserve the mantle of Great Alpha. She has done nothing for any of us, except Satomi and her close little friends. She controls everything we do with an iron fist, even has little spies in the other territories so they can come and tattle in case one of us steps out of line. And it’s not just the Alphas, Stiles, it’s the whole pack. She monitors everything and everyone, and then claims it’s for our ‘safety’.”

That sounds more like she’s doing her job as Great Alpha of the Five Packs and monitoring her territories and making sure they do good, rather than her being Big Brother and controlling everything, as Jennifer says. At least to Stiles that’s what it sounds like. He thinks this is one of those times when it’s not actually the government’s fault, but the people’s unrest who will bring the country down. And they shouldn’t be unrestful, because Stiles knows Talia and she would only ever do what she thinks is right and would benefit as many people as possible. He’s spent his entire life under Talia’s tutelage, and he doesn’t know how long Jennifer has known Talia, but it clearly hasn’t been long enough, if she can’t see the security and peace that Talia provides. And at what cost, exactly? What, precisely, is Jennifer so concerned that she’s losing with Talia at the helm?

“And tell me, Stiles, what has she done for you? She has failed to catch the shadow being, she has failed to catch the Alpha werewolf, she has failed to help you with your spark. She has failed time and time again and done nothing but hurt you repeatedly. Why wouldn’t you hate her? You have every reason to with all she’s done, with all that her son’s done, on top of that. She—”

“She’s my mother and she has been since I was four-years-old, so watch what you say,” Stiles snaps vehemently. Jennifer pulls back in surprise, eyes widening as her mouth snaps shut. “Just because you don’t like Talia Hale or fail to see all the good she does for not only my territory, but all the territories she’s the Alpha of, doesn’t mean you get to shit on her and talk down on her all the time, especially to me. Talia’s taught me a great deal in my life and I owe so many wonderful things to her, including her son. I’m cognizant of their failings as much as I am of their achievements. Don’t ever try to use Derek or Talia against me again, or I promise you, I won’t be as lenient as I am right now.”

Stiles isn’t sure what exactly snapped in him, but he couldn’t stand hearing Talia talked about like that, especially being used against him. And Derek? Low fucking blow. He’s well aware of the problems he has with Derek, he doesn’t need them “subtly” brought up, especially when they’re only being used extraneously to prove a frivolous point. And he also doesn’t know how exactly he can threaten Jennifer when everything he knows comes from what she’s taught him, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t going to try. The words half just spilled out of him on their own accord, the defending and whatnot and especially the part about threatening, like it was his natural defense to threaten those who oppose his loved ones, which is kind of a scary thought, but also kind of badass.

Jennifer looks properly chastised. She bows her head and holds her arm with her free hand, looking small and almost childlike as she refuses to meet Stiles’ eyes, cheeks slightly pink.

“I’m sorry, Stiles, I didn’t mean to upset you like that. You’re absolutely right to castigate me, I apologize deeply,” Jennifer says meekly, looking up at Stiles at the tail end of her sentence, eyes still wide and almost frightened.

Stiles’ heart aches a little, because he didn’t mean to scare her that bad. It’s almost funny, how someone like Stiles, young and a student in all meanings of the word, could make an older, much more experienced druid of the natural world cower because he yelled at her a bit too much, but the joke largely falls short because all Stiles can think about is how much of a dick he is to try to find joy in someone else’s misery, especially misery he caused.

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” he says, despite a weird sensation in his gut. He doesn’t feel like he should be comforting her, especially because she was in the wrong. He pins this as an important memory to come back to when he leaves training today, an alarm going off that he knows he needs to pay attention to. “Um, just don’t talk about them like that again, okay? Why don’t we get started on the weird sisters’ spell?”

Stiles tries a smile and gestures to the cauldron. Jennifer’s smile quickly flips into one of those big, bright ones that shows off all her teeth, her fast-flipping emotions giving Stiles a bit of whiplash. But she opens her journal to the page she’s been saving and starts to read ingredients from it.

Stiles sets to work getting the ingredients and putting them into the already bubbling cauldron—which _magic_! How cool!—and tries to put the whole experience behind him, at least until he can examine the evidence more closely.

+++

Stiles is walking back to his house from the clearing after having told Jennifer that he thinks he wants to walk himself home today, and she had given him sad eyes and a pout, but conceded. Once he’s a safe enough distance away, he lets his mind wander and starts focusing on what he knows from Jennifer.

Which is pretty much nothing. He knows she’s Kali’s Emissary, that her last name is Blake, that she wanted to be a teacher when she was younger, and that she’s hopelessly devoted to her craft. And that’s about it. Granted, they’ve only been doing lessons for just under a week now, as they’re coming up to the middle of spring break, so it’s not like he’s going to know her whole life story in that time. But she’s learned Stiles’. She asks him all the time about his life, growing up, his mate bond with Derek, what his best friends are like, how he likes school, what he wants to do when he grows up, and which college he has his eye on. She seems to want to know everything about him, which is nice and refreshing, because the only friends Stiles has are the group of people he has now, and he’s grown up with them for most of their lives, so he rarely gets opportunities to make friends like that, with people who are interested in what he has to say because they’ve never heard it come out of his mouth before and aren’t yet used to his brain or his verbal way of thinking and expressing himself. So how can he look further than that? Sure, he doesn’t know a lot about her and she does a lot of weird things, but how bad can that be? Stiles is plenty weird himself, that’d just be hypocritical.

Which, maybe that’s sad, that Stiles doesn’t want to investigate why Jennifer’s probably not all that she claims to be—or worse, way more than she claims to be—because he’s worried about losing a friend, because, what, he doesn’t have enough? No, that’s a lame excuse.

Theo said not to be a dumbass. Here’s him not being a dumbass.

So he keeps thinking. About what Jennifer has done right, about what she’s done wrong, about the conversations he’s had with her and the one he just had with her.

Stiles realizes, far too belatedly, that when she apologized for all that mess that just happened, she never actually apologized for what she said about Talia or Derek or anything, only how she made Stiles feel, like she didn’t care about the others in the slightest, but was most concerned with making sure Stiles wasn’t mad at her. It was weird, right, like that’s not a normal thing that happens? Stiles thinks about the ‘weird’ column he made specifically when he first met Jennifer in the study, and how he put down the facts that when she talked, it gave him a weird feeling, and that she was very flippant and disrespectful to Talia, not even greeting her as Alpha, as all the other druids—literally _all_ the other druids—had done. He had marked those both as ‘weird’ at the time. Now, he can add her further and blatant disrespect for Talia, and her weird attachment to how Stiles feels, and the weird way she speaks in quotes and riddles, mostly to herself it seems, and the intense passion she has for keeping tradition and preserving the ancient ways, and the way she professes knowing about the spark and what it entails, when she first confessed to him that first night that she knew next to nothing about it.

Stiles hates to admit it, because he genuinely enjoys talking with Jennifer and learning magic and rituals and stuff with her, but that’s just too many things in the ‘weird’ and newly dubbed ‘unexplainable’ column. It’s too many variables he doesn’t know, which means there’s no way to solve the equation until he learns more of the variables, which he’s hesitant and scared to do and he doesn’t know why. Maybe he’s worried what he’s going to find if he digs into all the weird shit Jennifer does. Shouldn’t that be a red flag right there?

Yeah, shit, maybe it should.

And Stiles is awful at listening to his gut instinct. He tends to second guess himself and choose the wrong option and always pays dearly for it. But this is one of those situations where choosing the wrong option would mean paying for it with either his life or someone he loves’ life. He literally can’t choose wrong, especially not when his gut instinct is almost always right, something he tends to ignore, usually without meaning to.

Not being a dumbass, right.

And right now, his gut instinct is telling him to talk to Derek. They have a lot to talk about, and Stiles isn’t even 100% sure he wants to pull Derek into this and tell him all about Jennifer and everything—and shouldn’t Derek be able to smell her on him? Not that he and Derek have been in such close contact recently, but still—but he does want to talk to Derek and work things out. He’s been a dick recently with the ignoring, Derek’s been a dick pretty much the whole time they’ve been mates, so there should be plenty to talk about.

As for Jennifer, his gut instinct says to tell somebody who might be able to do something, which gives him an idea, and he prays that he’s making the right choice with this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all right, y'all. i was actually able to publish this way sooner than i thought i would be able to, so thank god for that, right?
> 
> we have the theo scene! because a lot of y'all said someone had to talk stiles out of being a dumbass and it was most likely supposed to be theo because she got both sides of the story, and i wanted to do that later on in the story, but i realized that i was just dragging this stuff out and making up more angst than there needed to be so i cut a lot out. more on that later
> 
> stiles also realizes jennifer is not who she claims to be, i will confirm that. i also didn't want to draw out him being under her influence because i feel like he really wouldn't be that dumb (like i'm tryna have him be a bit oblivious but i don't want him dumb, which is why i'm rewriting some things and pls let me know if he really is that dumb, i don't want him to come off that way lmao)
> 
> also sorry there is no sterek in this chapter, but next chapter? y'all will be quite pleased, i think. i'm very pleased with how that chapter turned out so :)
> 
> thank you all so much for reading and enjoying and all your feedback! i really appreciate it! <33


	21. until i wrap myself inside your arms, i cannot rest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "So don't screw this up."
> 
> Peter then slinks off and leaves Stiles to wonder what he means by ‘screw this up’ and if he’s referring to Derek or something to do with Jennifer. Well, he’ll deal with that later. He has a more pressing matter to deal with right now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is actually shorter than i meant it to be? but i split up all the important talks they need to have because it flows better that way, and also i wanted this one to stand alone. you'll see what i mean
> 
> chapter title comes from "howl" by florence and the machine, aka a wonderful song that i love very much and the lyrics are absolutely wonderful and i strongly recommend listening to it

He chooses to talk to Derek first. He doesn’t necessarily think it’s going to be easier or shorter, but it almost feels more pressing than dealing with the Jennifer situation right now.

He’s been ignoring the mate bond the entire time he’s been ignoring Derek, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t feeling any of it. He feels Derek’s disappointment and shame, which is a bit of a weird feeling, because Stiles isn’t exactly sure why Derek is shameful, and his sadness and quiet anger. He knows that Derek knows that he’s projecting through the mate bond, and therefore that Derek is probably trying to communicate these feelings with Stiles without actually talking about them.

Which is, like, the whole problem.

Not that Stiles is a perfect example for advanced communication, he’s well aware of that, but if Derek could just tell him what’s on his mind and what he thinks about certain things regarding their mate bond and his entire opinion on Stiles as a person, as a mate, the whole shebang, Stiles feels like they could really be somewhere by now. Derek’s shit at talking about his emotions and feelings, always been more of an action person than a word person, and Stiles gets it, he does. But sometimes all the actions confuse him because it’s not like Derek is saying very little coupled with copious actions, it’s that there’s virtually no words coupled with copious actions and Stiles often doesn’t know how to interpret that. He’s a word person, which means he also really, really likes when words are spoken _to_ him as well as when he’s the one speaking all the words. Just like Derek is an action person and likes when people touch him or do things to show how much they care about him, which Stiles tries to employ, though it doesn’t always work in his favor.

So there’s miscommunication, what’s new? They’ve been at this for twelve, almost thirteen years and they haven’t gotten a lick better at doing it right and the way the other wants it while also working on compromise. For most mated couples, thirteen years is total bliss, just more time you get to spend with the love of your life. For Stiles and Derek, though, thirteen years has been a constant rollercoaster of up— _he’s talking to me_ and _we’re hanging out together_ and _we’re showing each other our favorite movies_ and _I think I might actually like being around this guy_ and _he’s here for me even though he doesn’t have to be because he knows how scared I am for my mom_ and _he doesn’t have to be here with sunflowers but he is_ and _how did he know those are her favorite flowers he must actually listen to me_ and _he’s not saying anything but I think it’s going to be okay I can tell from that smile_ —and down— _he’s an ignorant asshole who can’t pull his head out of his own ass for two minutes_ and _I can’t believe I have to sit next to him at the dinner table we’re not even like that_ and _he’s the most annoying sourwolf I’ve ever met how am I possibly mated to a guy like him_ and _why won’t he talk to me anymore did I do something wrong did I say something wrong what’s wrong I don’t understand_ —and never really finding middle ground in between. There’s rarely compromises, mostly Stiles doing whatever Derek wants to do because he wants to selfishly spend as much time as possible with Derek, with the occasional Derek reluctantly agreeing to go along with what Stiles wants because his mom is forcing him to, but he can’t even be bothered to get his nose out of his book for five minutes anyway.

Up until the Five Packs strolled into town, it was like Stiles and Derek were trapped in a loveless arranged marriage and they were just waiting for someone to come save them from the other person, or for the other person to magically turn around and not be an asshole. And then the Five Packs came and Derek suddenly cared, like a flip had been switched, like something made him care, because surely he didn’t do it on his own. How could he have gone from cold indifference all those years—like how when Stiles first heard of the Five Packs while playing card games with Theo and Derek had walked by, completely absorbed in his own world and not even talking to Stiles—to the warm and loving guy he is now—kissing Stiles in the middle of a thunderstorm in the safety of his bedroom, and rubbing his back, playing his favorite music, bringing him dinner and that one time he bought him breakfast too, sneaking off to classrooms to talk and cuddle, and, God, all the cuddling and the _talking_ they’ve been doing recently, probably more than Stiles has ever heard Derek talk if he’s being honest—and what could have possibly changed him?

Stiles has a terrifying thought that maybe something came with the Alphas to change him so severely. Maybe they spelled him or something; Stiles isn’t sure if it’s possible, but why wouldn’t it be? There’s a spell for almost everything else, surely a genuine love spell exists. But that doesn’t exactly fit, because love spells make you all ooey gooey with your special someone, dating and catering to their every whim and being over-the-top cheesy, and Stiles likes a little cheese, but we’re talking skywriter proposals level of cheese. And Derek just isn’t like that, hasn’t been like that. He talks to Stiles and touches him a lot more and seems to really be into scent-marking him, but it’s not over-the-top, and he still has asshole qualities. They’re still getting into fights—that Stiles most often is the one apologizing for, which, hmm, interesting… Though to be fair, some of them have been Stiles’ fault or a direct result of Stiles freaking out and then reacting poorly, so, that’s probably not conducive in any way—and still both firm assholes, snarky and condescending, especially to each other. So does it mean anything when Derek indulges him in a conversation about why Deadpool would not have a scarred tongue, or who would be which member of the Scooby Gang, or tells him about the legends and mythology that he knows just because Stiles is curious about it, and sometimes even unprompted?

If not a love potion, then what made him switch so abruptly? Because although Stiles wants to keep that dial turned, he just also wants a little more communication and a lot less drama, which is admittedly going to be hard coming from the two of them.

He goes to the Hale House once he gets home from his meeting with Jennifer, takes the Jeep over there and parks it in the driveway. He goes through the house, says hi to all the family members that see and greet him, holding Peter’s eye when he spots him.

“‘There’s daggers in men’s smiles. The near in blood, the nearer bloody,’” Peter says as he passes. Stiles stops and turns to Peter.

“Macbeth,” he declares, and then something strikes him.

Peter, from that day they played chess in the library just about a week ago, was trying to warn him with that Midgard Morningstar quote, no doubt. That’s what he uses all his quotes for anyway, to guide and warn, that’s probably what they’ve all been about this whole time. Stiles needs to think back and remember them and see where else was Peter trying to warn him. He did end up writing some of them down, along with that weird thing Satomi said to him about illumination or whatever. That’s his next task, after Derek and Jennifer.

He smiles at Peter and then he says, “And I agree. The light has been fixed and the spell is unbroken, but now I know to look closer at people’s smiles, so thank you for that.”

Peter’s responding grin is probably the biggest and brightest Stiles has ever seen it, coming on in a flash. He laughs and says, “Well, it took you long enough. Remember, I don’t give out freebies. So don’t screw this up.”

Peter then slinks off and leaves Stiles to wonder what he means by ‘screw this up’ and if he’s referring to Derek or something to do with Jennifer. Well, he’ll deal with that later. He has a more pressing matter to deal with right now.

He heads upstairs and knocks once on Derek’s door before pushing his way in, not bothering to wait for a response, like usual. Derek is sitting on his bed with his legs crossed under him, reading a small yellow book. His to-read pile, which is always on the right side of his bed, next to his nightstand, looks significantly smaller than it did last time Stiles was in Derek’s bedroom, which was about a week ago. Now those books are gone, probably re-ordered around the room and shoved into whatever nooks and crevices were available, as seems to be what Derek’s done with the place, completely ignoring the system Stiles had carefully set up. Which is a little pang to the chest hurtful, but okay, whatever. Not the issue right now.

Derek doesn’t look up when Stiles comes in, presumably because he can either via the bond or his werewolf senses. He’s dressed in these weird cut-off gray sweats that stop above the knee but totally work for him and a plain black T-shirt, and Stiles thinks that if only he had glasses, he’d be everyone’s nerdy wet dream.

“Um, hey,” Stiles says as he shuts the door behind him. Derek still doesn’t look up as Stiles comes to stand awkwardly at the foot of his bed. “Can we talk?”

“Now you want to talk?” Derek says dully, turning the page. Stiles bites his tongue so he doesn’t lose his temper right there and takes a deep breath.

“I wanted to say that I know you’re mad at me and I’m sorry for being so flakey recently.”

Derek puts down his book and looks up at Stiles finally, but his kaleidoscope eyes are cold and sharp, not warm and welcoming. “You’re sorry for being so flakey recently?” He parrots. Stiles furrows his brows.

“Uh, yes?”

Derek scoffs and gets out of the bed, standing so they’re on level ground, even though there’s still quite a distance between them.

“You think I’m mad at you because you’ve been _flakey_ recently?”

“Are you just going to repeat the same—”

“I’m not mad at you because you’ve been flakey recently, Stiles. I’m mad at you because you’re so—hot and cold, and I never know which I’m gonna get.”

Now Stiles scoffs. “ _Me_? Are you kidding me? Derek, the only reason I’m ‘hot and cold’ to you is because _you’re_ hot and cold to _me_! And I never know how to act around you!”

“What do you mean, I’m hot and cold? I’ve never hidden how I feel about you, it’s written all over everything I do.”

“Well then it must be written in invisible fucking ink, because you’re the least clear person I’ve ever met!”

“You’re just shit at picking up on it because—”

“What, because I’m not a _werewolf_? You elitist _asshole_ —”

“No, because you’re oblivious, you prick!”

So clearly this communication tactic is not going well, and now Stiles is pissed.

“ _Me_? _I’m_ oblivious?” Stiles laughs humorlessly and a little wetly, unfortunately. “All I have ever done my entire _fucking_ life is try to get you to like me with your impossible fucking standards. To get you to look at me or talk to me or notice me for one fucking second. And you know what, Derek? That’s a shit way to live. I’m sick of trying to be the perfect mate for you. I just came here to apologize and try to talk it out with you, but we can never do that, can we? God, I have no idea what ‘higher power’ chose us to be mated together, but clearly it was wrong if this is all that comes out of our relationship.”

Stiles turns to leave, but Derek is in front of him in a flash, holding his hands out defensively.

“Whoa, hey, wait,” Derek starts, eyes big and pleading, all the anger that was just etched into his features gone, yet another person’s emotion changed at the drop of a hat before his eyes. “Stiles, no, I never meant to—I didn’t know you felt like that, I never meant to make you feel like that.”

Stiles curses his tear ducts as he tries to will away any water in his eyes. He laughs humorlessly again, sounding too wet for his liking, though fortunately he’s not actually crying. Yet.

“How could you _not_ know I felt like that? It was projected all over the bond, I’m sure, and our bond didn’t start malfunctioning until the Five Packs came to town.”

Derek’s eyebrows pull together at the last part and he opens his mouth, but he seems to decide better of it and moves on. “I… I’m not good at focusing on the bond. It’s intense for me, more intense as a werewolf I mean, so I’ve always tried to put it on the back burner. If you felt a really strong emotion, like overwhelming happiness or sadness or anxiety, I’d still feel it and would acknowledge it, but I… I was always too scared to go to you, you know?”

“What?”

Derek rubs the back of his neck. “I always felt like you had the whole mate thing down really well, that you knew what you were doing better than I did. It… Intimidated me and scared me.”

“So, you refused to be my mate because I was better at it than you and I intimidated you?” Stiles laughs again, this one more biting and bitter. “Yeah, okay, whatever.”

He goes to move past Derek, but Derek blocks his way again. “Please, wait, let me at least explain this, and then if you still think I’m an asshole, you’re welcome to never talk to me again.”

“You’re just digging yourself deeper,” Stiles warns, but plants his feet and crosses his arms over his chest. Coming in here and almost crying was not on the agenda, and he’s pissed that he’s getting this emotional.

“Probably,” Derek agrees before taking a deep breath. “I didn’t focus on the mate bond, because I thought maybe if I didn’t, it would just go away.” Stiles makes a move to leave again in exasperation. “But! But—!” Derek stops Stiles again. “But I didn’t realize exactly what it meant to have a mate and be a mate, and I didn’t realize that it doesn’t go away and that there’s a reason it doesn’t go away.

“Stiles, I spent my whole life being intimidated by you, and I’m not saying that to gripe on you. I mean that you’re the most confident, brilliant, sure-of-themself person I have ever met, and that includes Peter and Lydia. Hell, I’d easily argue you’re better than the two of them combined. You’re sarcastic and whip-smart—I cannot get over how smart you are—and one of the kindest, most interesting people I’ve ever met. You’re selfless and brave and, dare I say it, pretty damn funny, and I like being able to talk to you about anything and you can just listen or have a rebuttal or tell me all the ways I’m wrong. Like that one time you lectured me about the proper way to say pecans and I pretended like I wasn’t listening the entire time, but I totally was—”

“You still said it wrong,” Stiles says a little hopefully, his eyes still a little misty, but for a different reason now. God, he feels like a teenager girl, his heart leaping the second his crush starts to pay him any attention.

“You’re the one who says it wrong, I don’t even know if you’re ironically saying it ‘pee-cans’ or if you actually think that’s how it’s pronounced, but—”

Stiles laughs, and it’s a normal one, a simply amused one. Derek cuts himself off to stare at Stiles, who has a tear that’s slipped out running down his cheek.

Derek slowly reaches up to wipe it away with his finger. Stiles leans into the touch.

All this time and he’s listened. He’s actually been listening.

“It’s been an emotional rollercoaster. Didn’t someone sing that? _Emotional_ _rollercoaster_ ,” Stiles sings, trying to find the tune. He can’t and disappointingly flaps a hand. “Ah, whatever.”

Derek blinks, and then laughs.

“I’ve forgotten where I was,” he admits.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure you were at the part where you tell me all the things you like about me that really tickle your fancy. That’s been my favorite part thus far,” Stiles teases, the tension easing in him a bit.

Derek smiles softly before he gets a tight look on his face. “Actually, I think I still need to apologize. Not only for making you feel in any way less than adequate—because, Stiles, honestly, you’re the closest to perfect I’ve ever met—”

Stiles’ heart full on stops and holds its breath before starting back up again, starting to race for no good reason other than the fact that this is his mate telling him the words he’s secretly always wanted to hear and it sounds like he _means them_ and he just can’t handle that. His hand comes up and grips Derek’s wrist tightly as he swallows the lump in his throat, his eyes still a bit teary, but he forces them down this time, no more escapees.

He’s not gonna cry over a few nice words. Seriously. He’s not. That’d be weird.

(That first tear was totally just a fluke and didn’t count and the only other person who saw it was Derek and Stiles is pretty sure, judging on the way this is going, that he can convince Derek to pretend that he didn’t see anything.)

“—but for what happened at school last Thursday. With the Alphas. Well, afterwards in the classroom.”

Oh, yeah. Stiles, in all the excitement with Kate and shady Jennifer and everything, completely forgot that he freaked out on Derek in an empty classroom.

“No, I should be apologizing—” Stiles starts, but Derek cuts him off and moves closer, more into Stiles’ bubble, not that he’s complaining.

“No, no way. I was being a complete dick and blaming you for stuff that we both know isn’t your fault, and I knew it would upset you and that’s why I said it, which is just about the worst thing I could’ve done. I’m sorry, Stiles, seriously, for what I said and for how I made you feel.”

_That’s_ how a proper apology is done, Stiles thinks, Jennifer should take notes. Speaking of, she was the one who said that Derek was an elitist asshole and that he didn’t care for Stiles at all and now here Derek is, not an elitist asshole—which Stiles knew, even though he did call him it because he didn’t have any other good ammunition at the time—and totally, absolutely, 100% caring for Stiles and apparently has been all along but just has a funny way of showing it? Stiles is still blurry on that part, but they can clear that up in a second. He also isn’t sure Derek has actually said he’s sorry, other than for that Thursday like he just said, which means that will have to be rectified, too, if Stiles is actually going to forgive him. Which he’s pretty confident he will. Something about Derek compels him, what’s new.

As for Jennifer, if she was telling him all that to fuck with his head or something, he’s going to kill her. Like straight up murder, at this point, because how fucking dare she put her foot where it doesn’t belong and try to come in between their bond? Stiles is quickly losing respect and admiration for her.

“Thank you for apologizing,” Stiles says, because saying that what happened was okay would be dismissing it and how Stiles felt about it all, which would not be good, even if he did have a hand in making it all go to shit. He leans into Derek’s space because he really is that weak and can’t truly help himself. “I appreciate the apology, even if I did serve as a catalyst.”

“No, you don’t get to blame yourself anymore. You do that too much,” Derek replies, stroking Stiles’ cheekbone with his thumb. Stiles’ heart melts a bit. “And since we’re on the topic of apologies, and all I did was explain myself and not actually say I’m sorry, I am so unbelievably sorry for ignoring you, and not talking to you, and making you feel bad, and ever giving you a reason to doubt yourself, because if there is one person in this entire world you shouldn’t doubt, it’s you. I meant everything I said about you and in case my feelings weren’t clear enough by this point, and I know they weren’t very clear before, but I really fucking like you and I think I’d still like you even if you weren’t my mate, but the fact that you are makes it that much better. I’m sorry for—”

Stiles shuts him up with a finger to his lips, and Derek’s eyes widen a bit.

“I’m sorry, too. For how I’ve been treating you and that I’ve been being hot and cold and that I probably haven’t been the greatest mate from time to time either. But I appreciate your apology and I forgive you, of course, I forgive you. I really fucking like you, too,” Stiles tells him, pulling his hand away.

“I forgive you,” Derek says immediately. “I forgive you and I like you so much it drives me crazy and I really want to kiss you right now.”

“What the hell am I gonna do with you, Derek Hale?” Stiles wonders before grabbing him by his collar and pulling him in. It’s almost an awkward kiss, but Derek saves it at the last second by turning his head and opening his mouth a bit and when they touch, Stiles swears to God, as cheesy as it sounds, there are fireworks playing behind his eyes.

There’s a popping sound overhead and the sound of what must be glass breaking and falling onto something cushioned, but Stiles can’t be bothered at the moment. He wraps his arms around Derek’s neck and pulls him in close, reveling in the way Derek runs his hands along his back.

Because this is how it’s supposed to be, it’s messy, sure, and no shit it’s gonna be messy when it’s the two of them: Stiles, a hyperactive complete and total human—spark?—disaster, and Derek, a grumpy and sour book-wolf extraordinaire. But getting it right with the apologies and hearing Derek own up to the shit that’s been plaguing Stiles his whole life and, better yet, hearing him apologize and take blame and refuse to give Stiles any, or rather allow Stiles to take any more blame as he often does when no one else will, mostly to ease the tension of the room, and Stiles admitting to his own faults in a healthy way and getting the chance to apologize to Derek for being so childish all the time… Hearing all that and hearing that his deepest wishes are confirmed and that Derek actually likes him, he’s just the worst ever at showing it, hearing him validate Stiles and tell Stiles how amazing he is when he’s never really given that to him before, it just sets something right within him and the bond.

Because it feels like the first time they kissed, both them kissing right now and the bond itself. It feels like pack and family and happiness and contentment and feelings and all those bright and happy and positive emotions and feelings, and it feels like love, too. Not like familial love, though it does feel like that a bit, and not fully like friendly love, though that’s in there as well. But it feels like love love, like real, true love, a feeling that Stiles is so well-acquainted with because he feels it daily for Derek, without necessarily meaning or wanting to, or acknowledging it half the time. It’s the emotion he shoves down and represses into the back of his thoughts so he doesn’t even have to worry about thinking it, about feeling it, about showing it.

But he lets it be felt now.

And he feels it back.

And it’s so fucking great.

He doesn’t know which of them changes the kiss, but suddenly it’s a lot hotter and Derek backs Stiles up toward the bed and Stiles doesn’t even complain when he starts to tip and fall backward, just pulls Derek down with him.

Until something pricks his arm and he recoils from it, breaking the kiss to try to find what just pricked him.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles laughs, trying to sit up. Derek’s moving a little slower than usual, which is adorable, but once he sees what Stiles is looking at, he pulls him up and off the bed in a swift motion, examining his arm to make sure it’s not cut.

The glass light fixture on Derek’s ceiling fan is now in shards on his bed, only the light fixture, not the bulbs luckily, and luckily only on the top comforter, though it does kill the mood a bit, or at least slows them down.

“How the hell…?” Derek glances up at the light, one arm still around Stiles. Stiles winces.

“Yeah, no, I think that was me. When I get… Excited, things tend to move on their own,” Stiles explains, scratching the back of his neck. “Like the books the first time we kissed. My parents did warn me this was gonna happen… Probably should’ve listened to them.”

Derek looks slowly down at Stiles, a smile spreading across his face. “Are you saying that, when you kiss me, you get so worked up that you go all Jean Grey and make things move with your mind?”

“It’s not intentional,” Stiles sighs and then catches Derek’s expression. “Stop enjoying this so much, you prick!”

Derek laughs loudly and hard enough that he has to clutch at his stomach. It’s adorable and makes Stiles’ heart clench. He fights back a smile as he pushes at Derek.

“Shut up!”

“There’s not even—I don’t even have jokes for that, that is just—” Derek starts laughing again and Stiles shoves his arm away.

“You’re an asshole,” Stiles insists and stares at him cracking up over this, still holding his stomach, eyes squeezed shut tight, smile spread wide. He’s absolutely gorgeous like this. Happy, carefree, just being himself. Perfect.

Stiles purses his lips together and says, “I think you’re as close to perfect as I’ve ever met, too.”

Derek’s laughter dies down quickly and he stares at Stiles with these slightly wide eyes, like Stiles has given him the entire world and asked for nothing in return.

Then, after a moment, he smirks a little bit and says, “Good, otherwise that would’ve been awkward.”

Stiles laughs as Derek pulls him back in again. “Asshole,” he repeats, running his hands up Derek’s biceps to his shoulders.

“So are you, for the record,” Derek points out, and Stiles pretends to be offended.

“Wow, you’re really just gonna give me the best compliment I’ve ever received, get my amazing compliment in return, and then call me an asshole. I’m not even sorry I broke your light.” He moves to get away from Derek, but Derek catches him again and holds up there by his waist.

“You _are_ an asshole,” Derek grins, “and I’m an asshole and we’ll probably be assholes to each other. But maybe we can agree to not be assholes to each other all the time.”

There’s a transparent and stressed meaning behind his words and Stiles hears it loud and clear. He nods his approval.

“I agree. Assholes to the world and only a little bit to each other.”

“I like how you think,” Derek says with a sly, predatory grin.

“Yes, I know, you’ve said an iteration of that multiple times, though I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of you—!”

Derek cuts him off with another strong and toe-curling kiss and Stiles’ train of thought derails off a cliff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so that happened lmao
> 
> let me just say that i've literally been waiting for this scene for so long and i know y'all have too. stiles and derek finally talk like actual human beings and air out their grievances and while i believe that there's probably still some work to do, it's definitely a start. also maybe this is too quick (though, it's taken forever so probably not) but just remember that these boys have been head over heels for each other for years and too chicken to actually say anything, so, there's that
> 
> we also get a little taste of stiles realizing something is up with what peter is saying, which i hope some of you will be happy with. i really can't wait to expand on that and see what he thinks about everything!
> 
> also stiles is not typically this emotional, it's just a release of all the pent up emotions he's been feeling. i didn't want to write him as overly emotional, but i thought that if i personally were in that position, i might shed an angry or frustrated or happy tear somewhere in there
> 
> and yes, his spark is strongest especially around derek because derek makes him crazy and gives him the strongest emotions, no one can change my mind (i like to think that maybe his spark is tied to his emotions, if you haven't picked that up already)
> 
> that's all i have for now, i hope this is something like what you all have been waiting and hoping for because lord knows i have and writing it was so fun and enjoyable, thank you for all your support!


	22. we can fight a war for peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, basically, I’ve been cheating on you with Jennifer,” Stiles says to Deaton, who blinks, but his expression doesn’t change. Chris looks even more interested.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is plot heavy and apparently i love deaton and chris argent too much, who knew? also there is a cliffhanger at the end, going to say that now, it is not what it seems and i will explain myself in the end notes, i am sorry, but don't despair!
> 
> chapter title comes from "feel it still" by portugal. the man

So Stiles moves onto part two of his plan.

With the Derek drama taken care of, necessary apologies coming out of the woodwork, copious compliments, and a helluva lot of kissing taking Stiles by storm and accidentally destroying multiple parts of Derek’s room, which Derek just found hilarious, he now feels ready to move on to finding out what exactly is going on with Jennifer.

He has his evidence, his list of stuff she does that is weird and unexplained, and a whole lot of hate towards her because if she really was trying to get in between him and Derek, then there’s gonna be a lot of hell to pay. That relationship was not the greatest to start with, but her meddling certainly didn’t need to add to the already present and seemingly insurmountable pile.

(Which, they surmounted it, pretty much, though there’s probably a couple of lingering feelings that won’t go away with one apology and a couple nice words and a few amazing kisses. That’ll just be something they have to continually work on for the rest of their lives, but Stiles, for once, doesn’t mind the thought of that, especially not if it means finding new random shit to bicker with Derek about and new ways to drive him crazy.)

So he goes to his leading expert in druids and druid behavior, without Derek’s help, though those puppy eyes when Stiles said he had to leave almost convinced him.

The vet is supposed to be closing in fifteen minutes—because Stiles spent way longer over at Derek’s house than he intended to, but the man is convincing—and there’s no cars in the front so Stiles strolls right in and past the little desk into the back room.

Deaton glances up when he walks in, as does the man he’s with. It’s Chris Argent, Stiles recognizes, Allison and Kate’s dad. He’s only seen him a couple of times in passing, never really speaking to him, as he, his wife, and Allison didn’t live here until the beginning of this school year, although Kate was raised in Beacon Hills with her grandfather, though no one really knows why. Chris is a Hunter, though, leader of the local Hunters, similar to how Talia is the leader of the local wolves.

There are vials in front of them, mostly with purple or blue powder in them, though one has yellow powder in it. But Stiles thinks he recognizes them.

“Wolfsbane,” he says in lieu of a greeting, pointing at the vials. He points to the yellow one. “Wolfsbane?”

“A very rare and special type, yes,” Deaton says. Then gestures to Stiles. “Chris, this is—”

“Stiles Stilinski, yes,” Chris says, sticking his hand out after a moment. Stiles takes it and shakes. “You go to school with Allison. Hell of a grip you got there.”

Stiles lets go of Chris’ hand. Weird to phrase that, not that Stiles is friends with Allison, but rather that they just go to school together. Does he know that they’re friends? And if he doesn’t, then how does he know that Stiles goes to school with Allison? It’s not like it’s that hard of a guess, because they live on this side of town and not the other side with the other high school, but still, strange.

“Yeah, she’s an amazing person, real sweetheart,” Stiles says genuinely, still a bit wary of Chris. Chris makes a dubious face in his direction, like he can’t be sure if Stiles is serious.

“Yes, she is,” he finally agrees.

“Wish I could say the same about Kate,” Stiles admits, not in slightest ashamed, not after what she did to Derek.

Chris’ jaw tightens, but then he nods his head, turning back to Deaton and wisely not responding. Deaton looks between them for a moment before clearing his throat and gesturing to the yellow wolfsbane.

“That particular form of wolfsbane is, as I said, rare and special, as it has been known to be used as a paralyzing agent. Chris and I were studying possible healing properties it might have, as compared to other types of wolfsbane,” Deaton explains, probably to relieve the tension from the room.

Stiles supposes it works, because he’s compelled to ask, “Could that have any healing properties? That seems like a no-go to me.”

“That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Chris adds, not unkindly. “We know it can be used as an antidote to some natural poisons, but we were looking for supernatural connections.”

“Not to sound like an ignorant ass, but why do Hunters even care whether or not you learn what wolfsbane does what? All I’ve heard Hunters do is put it in bullets and shoot werewolves.”

Chris makes an unpleasant face. “Admittedly, there are some more… Zealous Hunters who only care about ridding the world of monsters and whatnot.” Stiles bristles at the use of the word ‘monsters’ like that, but Chris doesn’t seem to notice. “But I try to train my Hunters not to be like that.”

“Emphasis on try,” Stiles finds himself saying, without much meaning to, but not regretting it. Chris shoots him a dark look before continuing.

“Hunters aren’t like your little pack of wolves. They’re not as structured and they tend to break off. I know it’s harder for wolves to break their ties with their pack, but Hunters don’t have that issue. There have been rogue Hunters in the past and there will be rogue Hunters in the future, just as there will be rogue Alphas, Betas, and Omegas. I try to train my Hunters to be structured and to be keepers of peace, as the treaty said. Yes, to keep the wolves in line, but also to protect the community from supernatural threats, working with the wolves if it comes to that. So I believe it’s important to know about different types of wolfsbane and how to use them because say one of these types of wolfsbane cures a rabid and sick werewolf. If we administer the correct wolfsbane and dosage, done in the correct way, and we can save the life of that werewolf, then we can also save the lives of the community and potentially create a new ally to help and fight alongside us should we need the aide. Do you understand?”

Chris gave him the same look his own father gives him when he’s asking him the same question in the same intonation: like he’s a child who doesn’t know anything and needs to be taught a lesson. He gulps, because if he hated that expression on his dad, he really hates it on Chris Argent, and nods his head.

“Good,” Chris says, and turns back to the vials, scribbling something down in the notebook in front of him.

Stiles glances at Deaton, who merely raises his eyebrows like _you did this to yourself_. Stiles blows out a breath and shrugs before coming closer to the table, peering at the vials.

“So, what about these two?” Stiles points at the purple and blue wolfsbane. He knows he’s gone over them in his courses with both his mother and Deaton, but he’s curious to see what Chris will say.

“Purple and blue wolfsbane are the most common type you’ll see in this area, and all over, actually. You can pretty much use any of these types of wolfsbane to cure someone, depending on whichever type they were injured with. Shoot a wolf with blue, you pour a little burnt blue powder into the wound and make sure you really shove it in there. It’s gory, but it’ll work,” Chris explains. He gestures to the purple vial. “Purple, when used in the right way, or I guess wrong way, can make those exposed to it pass out or hallucinate, though I guess if you had enough blue or yellow, you could probably pass out, too. Yellow, as said before, paralyzes wolves and werecreatures, from what we’ve seen, but it’s so untested due to its rarity that it might do a multitude of things we’re not prepared for.”

Stiles pretty much knew all that, though it’s always interesting to hear someone else’s take on the matter. He hums.

“So more than just werewolves and Hunters use wolfsbane though, right? Like druids?” Stiles glances at Deaton, who nods.

“Druids, witches, sparks, werewolves, werecoyotes, some banshees, a large majority of the were-community, yes. It’s quite universal, and I know I’m leaving off at least a dozen different species who have uses for it. It does a multitude of things, though it is quite toxic to those who encounter it. Sometimes, however, a little toxicity is necessary.”

Stiles huffs a laugh. “Hey, speaking of toxicity and druids, I came here to tell you about something that I don’t want to tell Talia about, just not yet. Okay?” Deaton solemnly nods for him to continue and Stiles glances warily at Chris, who looks interested, but says nothing.

Stiles hopes this doesn’t blow up in his face and goes on. “Well, basically, I’ve been cheating on you with Jennifer,” Stiles says to Deaton, who blinks, but his expression doesn’t change. Chris looks even more interested. “We’ve been meeting up and she’s been teaching me about how to control my—” He throws another look at Chris before deciding _fuck it_ “—my spark. And I’ve been learning with her, but she’s a bit… Odd.”

“What do you mean you’ve been meeting up?” Deaton asks. “Meeting up where?”

“That’s another thing. She took me to a clearing and in the center, there’s a big cut down tree she calls the Nemeton and—”

“You’ve been going out to the Nemeton?” Chris asks, eyebrows raised considerably. Deaton looks just as surprised.

“And practicing your magic? Using your spark?”

“Uh, yeah, why is everyone freaking out—”

“The Nemeton is an energy source, Stiles, you—” Chris starts. Stiles cuts him off.

“No, I know, she told me that!”

“What _exactly_ did she tell you?” Deaton asks.

“Just that it was this big energy source, but it’s all dormant right now and we’re not supposed to touch it because it could feed off the energy, or whatever.”

“No, not ‘or whatever’! This is—” Chris starts. Deaton cuts Chris off this time.

“That’s part of what the Nemeton is, yes. The Nemeton is a magnet that draws supernatural creatures to it like a beacon, hence why the town is named Beacon Hills, and why the county is named Beacon County, and why Jacob Hale settled here so long ago, and why the Great Alpha typically resides in Beacon Hills, and why there’s an abundance of supernatural creatures in this town, just like there is in Brasília in Brazil—”

“Where part of Derek’s family lives,” Stiles says slowly, understanding the pattern. “Surely there’s more than just those two?”

“There are Nemeta located all around the world,” Chris says. “Nemeta are sacred spaces where druids perform rituals. My ancestors came from France to look after this Nemeton in Beacon Hills, to protect it.”

“This one specifically?” Stiles asks. Chris nods. “Why?”

“It’s located at convergence of Telluric currents,” Chris says simply. Stiles waits for him to elaborate, which he doesn’t.

“O—kay, so what does that mean?” He prompts.

“It basically means that the Nemeton has the potential to be powerful. Very powerful.”

“Potential?”

“The Nemeton, being that it is currently dormant, would require a really powerful sacrifice or series of sacrifices in order to be fully powered and in order for that power to then be harnessed,” Deaton tells him.

“And if it was fully powered? Or if the power was harnessed?”

Deaton and Chris exchange a look before Deaton looks back at Stiles.

“In the past, when Nemeta have reached their full potential, there have been devastating events,” Deaton says slowly.

“Think 1906 San Francisco,” Chris suggests.

“ _That_ was because of the Nemeton?” Stiles asks incredulously, thinking of the earthquake and resulting fire. Deaton shakes his head.

“No, that was just the resulting effects of an inexperienced druid who had no idea what they were dealing with and tried to tap into the Nemeton’s power. The Nemeton had leveled a large part of Beacon Hills that year and many remaining inhabitants were forced to start their lives over,” Deaton explains. “And that wasn’t even at full power.”

“Jesus,” Stiles breathes. If the earthquake was only an aftershock of Nemeton, and not even fully powered, and it still leveled a good chunk of Beacon Hills where the energy was strongest at its source, then what the hell could a fully powered Nemeton do, if the power is harnessed incorrectly? Stiles didn’t want to find out.

He thinks about it, the supposed incredibly powerful sacrifice, or series of sacrifices, that would be necessary to power the Nemeton. Then something clicks in his head, something that Jennifer said to him, the Martin Farquhar Tupper quote.

_A spark is a little thing, yet it may kindle the world._

It was like she was talking to herself, and maybe she was. Because now Stiles is thinking: what if she meant it literally? What if she _literally_ meant that a spark is a little thing that kindles the world? What would that mean, though? She would light Stiles on fire to kindle the world? Because that doesn’t make sense. Maybe that a spark’s magic could kindle the world, because that… That would imply that sparks are powerful, right, which is a given. More powerful than druids, probably more powerful than witches (Stiles kinda feels like witches are the lowest on the magical totem pole, like below druids, who are just below sparks, but he’s not an expert). That would imply that you could potentially use a spark’s, well, _spark_ to kindle the world, to make it brighter, make it stronger, to excite the world. Wait, no, that doesn’t work as much. But make it stronger, make it stronger…

Wait. Everyone always says that Stiles is the brightest they’ve ever seen, so what if Jennifer knows that too? What if she’s trying to use Stiles’ spark to ignite the Nemeton, wake it up? A really powerful sacrifice, that’s what Deaton said.

God, it makes sense. All the conditioning Jennifer’s been doing with the coddling and the teaching and the being his friend, making him feel like he actually matters. It makes him a little sick. Peter really was right this entire time, from all the not-so-subtle messages and quotes. Jennifer uses it all as a ploy to trick him into being pliant, into trusting her, so she could turn around and stab him in the back when it was most convenient for her, a true betrayal.

“Oh, shit,” he breathes, and looks up at Deaton and Chris. “I think I know what’s going on here. Jennifer, she-she’s been using me this whole time, trying to get closer to me, teach me to master my spark so that I’m powerful so that—”

“She can sacrifice you,” Deaton concludes, a solemn expression settling on his face. “Yes, that makes sense, though I can’t say it doesn’t surprise me. There’s always been something a little… Off with her.”

“Yeah, no shit, she’s trying to perform a powerful ritual sacrifice!” Stiles cries, throwing his hands up. Deaton’s expression doesn’t change.

“It was quite common for a vast majority of druids’ time for them to engage in ritual sacrifice to appease the spirits and perform certain rituals or spells. There are some modern druids who practice like that still.”

“ _Human_ sacrifice! Human ritual sacrifice!” Stiles protests. Deaton does flick a single eyebrow up in acknowledgment this time, which is something.

“Yes, well, those who practice that are far more rarer,” he admits.

“So this witch—” Chris starts.

“Druid,” Stiles interrupts, and then feels bad for how much Chris has been interrupted today. The annoyance shows on Chris’ face, as well as strong apathy, like he doesn’t care what she’s called, which he probably doesn’t.

“Right, so, she’s trying to kill you and sacrifice you to the Nemeton to reawaken it, and we’re just now hearing about it?” Chris raises an eyebrow.

Stiles sighs. “It’s been going on since Imbolc—” Chris’ expression doesn’t change, so he probably knows what Stiles is talking about, but Stiles explains anyway “—that’s like the new year in supernatural communities. So, anyway, it’s been a couple of months—well, that’s generous, almost two months now, a month and a couple of weeks—and, whatever, ever since Imbolc when the Five Packs all convened, I’ve been terrorized by this shadow dude this entire time—”

“Shadow dude?” Chris mouths quietly to Deaton, who nods.

“—and then the whole Alpha werewolf loose—”

“Wait, what?” Chris straightens. “There’s an Alpha werewolf loose and I’m just now hearing about it?”

“Well, yes and no, because it’s technically loose, but technically it’s only targeting me and my loved ones so—”

“I should’ve been the first person contacted,” Chris insists.

“Why? So you and your Hunters could try to contain it or put it down? No doubt at least a good handful of you guys would die and it has a tendency to bite, so you’d have to worry about—”

“Bite? It’s bitten people?”

Stiles hesitates. He’s not sure if Chris actually knows about Scott being a werewolf or not, and he definitely doesn’t wanna be the one to spill the beans if he doesn’t, and it’s kinda looking like he doesn’t. He also doesn’t think it’s necessarily his place to bring up Jackson’s kanima-wolf-hybrid situation or Lydia being a banshee, and he’s not gonna rat out Isaac either.

“Yes,” he says after a minute, but offers nothing else.

“Who got bit?” Chris demands.

Stiles shakes his head. “We’ve handled it, okay? They’re all taken care of and under control—”

“So far,” Chris interrupts, and Stiles can easily see how that could get annoying. “Newly bitten werewolves are the most difficult to control.”

“They have Talia as an Alpha, I think they’ll be fine.”

“Talia bit them?”

Stiles pulls his eyebrows together. “Uh, no, the rogue Alpha did.”

“Then she’s not their Alpha. _It_ is. And when it calls to them, they won’t be able to resist. And I promise you, it _will_ call to them.”

Stiles looks at Deaton for confirmation, who, again, nods his head solemnly. Well, shit, Stiles would’ve liked to know that. He knew that the rogue Alpha bit them obviously, but he thought Talia taking care of them would mean they were a part of her pack; that’s how it worked with Stiles and his family, they just assimilated into the group.

But if the Alpha tries to call Scott or Jackson or Isaac, that’s Bad News Bears. There has been a full moon since they’ve all been bit, their first full moon, but nothing really happened on it. Stiles knows that Scott, Isaac, and Jackson went over to the Hales for the whole day over spring break and stayed there, but when Stiles was around sparingly, he didn’t see them, so maybe they were in the basement learning control in the weird soundproof werewolf sex dungeon Talia had built under the house. Or, actually, that would’ve been Jacob Hale who built the house and therefore basement, but Talia has it looking like a medieval werewolf prison, which he supposes is necessary, but also slightly overkill.

“Did it call to them this past full moon? The one a week ago?” Chris asks, visibly tense and angry. Stiles shakes his head. Chris nods once. “Maybe you got lucky this last one, but trust me, that Alpha bit your friends with intent; it knew exactly what it was doing.”

“You think it singled them out?” Stiles asks, which he had suspicions about, but he’s still not entirely sure, because it doesn’t make sense. Why Scott? Why Isaac, why Lydia? Jackson kind of makes sense because he’s all muscly and, though Stiles hates to even think it, would probably make a decent werewolf for the whole physical aspect of it. But Scott was asthmatic and therefore not naturally physically gifted or terribly muscly, and Isaac is tall and like a long string bean, not as skinny as Stiles, but still much more lean than would be good to make a strong werewolf. Though, admittedly, it did seem like Isaac getting bit was an accident, that he just got in between Jackson and the Alpha, so maybe that one was purely accidental.

And Lydia? Why bite her? She has some muscles, sure, and she’s naturally a bit bitchy so maybe the Alpha thought that would help with her wolfy demeanor, but she’s the last person Stiles would bite if he was an Alpha. It doesn’t really make any sense. And why not go after Danny? He was right there, bigger than Jackson and though an angel, could probably rip someone’s head off with his claws if he was pushed, but it didn’t even try to touch him. It didn’t go for Allison either, despite her being human and probably a formidable werewolf, because Stiles has seen her martial arts training up close and personal and she could totally destroy a man.

“In a sense. You said the werewolf appeared after Imbolc?”

“Yeah, maybe almost three weeks after the shadow dude.”

Chris frowns at the word choice, but ignores it. “So I doubt it’s a real rogue, those are too rare and this doesn’t seem like a coincidence. But, yes, if the Alpha is targeting select people from your friend group alone, then perhaps it’s on purpose.”

“But it’s not all my human friends, only certain ones, it seems. And one I’m pretty sure was a total accident. And one’s not human, but I’m not sure if the Alpha knew that, I mean she barely just found out what she is,” Stiles explains hastily.

“Perhaps it is targeting specific people, then,” Chris muses. “Really specific.”

“Yeah, and only two of them I would call best friends. I mean, I love the other two—well, love is a strong word for one of them—but I’m not nearly as close to them as I am the two others that got bit, and I had other best friends that were present the second time, but it didn’t try to hurt them, although those two are werewolves so maybe it just knew not to bite them? But if it’s trying to hurt me, then why not hurt the people I love? I mean, I don’t want that obviously, but that makes more sense to me than randomly biting people.”

“The second time?” Chris inquires.

Stiles winces. “One got bit the first encounter. Three got bit the second time.”

“Jesus,” Chris mutters, rubbing his hand down his face and sighing deeply before looking back at Stiles. “You really should’ve called me.”

“I’ll remember that next time I’m about to die,” Stiles shoots back as snarky as he can.

Chris raises an eyebrow before saying, “Maybe the Alpha wasn’t trying to hurt _you_. Maybe it’s intentions were simply to bite those select friends.”

“But _why_? I can’t for the life of me figure it out.”

“I don’t know, honestly, and you’re probably not gonna like the answer when you hear it. Neither will I, I’m sure.” Chris sighs again and leans back against the metal table. “It seems you have a lot on your hands.”

“No kidding,” Stiles laughs humorlessly. He too sighs and runs a hand through his hair, grabbing briefly at the hair, not expecting it to be as long as it is. Granted, he hasn’t cut it for a while, but it’s still an odd feeling, almost surreal. “And I still need to figure out how to deal with Jennifer before she straight up murders me and spreads my blood on the Nemeton.”

“She’ll probably kill you while you’re lying on top of the Nemeton. It’ll get her the most blood for the ritual,” Deaton tells him. Stiles looks at him in horror.

“It genuinely frightens me that you not only know that, but that you’re so comfortable saying those words together in a sentence like that.”

Deaton merely shrugs. “It’ll be near impossible to find any more blood like yours: strong with a burning spark and pure.”

“Pure? What do you mean by pure?” Stiles asks, because he definitely is not pure by any means. Not as bad as he could be, of course, but he’s done a lot of shit he’s ashamed of or embarrassed by. All those years chasing after Derek, for example, though he supposes that worked out in the end. Trying to be funny in seventh grade by pantsing Scott (in a mostly secluded area, he’s not a total dick) and accidentally pulling his boxers half-way down. Scott had been mortified and Stiles wore a skirt to school for a week to make it up to him, and that was definitely a big enough punishment judging by all the teasing and bullying he acquired, and how he got dress coded all five days (which, changing into those gym shorts at lunch everyday was the highlight of his day for that entire week, and Scott forgave him by the first day, but he stuck it out to really show he was sorry for being childish and he knew how happy it made Scott to see his awkward body and pasty legs rocking a different skirt every morning that he got from Heather). And a bunch of other shit too.

“Pure,” Deaton repeats, unhelpfully. “Virtuous. Chaste. Virginal—”

“Oh my God!” Stiles hisses, embarrassment flooding his cheeks. He throws a quick glance to Chris, who’s smirking slightly, clearly amused by Stiles’ embarrassment, before looking back to Deaton. “Jesus Chr—dude!”

Deaton spreads his hands out in a defensive position, or maybe like he’s trying to calm Stiles. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s more common than you think at your age, more common than it’s played out to be.”

Stiles groans and drops his face in his hands, but only holds them there for a moment before looking back up.

“Wait, what? Why would virgin blood be better? Is that a real thing?”

Deaton makes a slight face before answering. “Yes and no. The virgin blood you often hear talked about in old stories and fairytales talks about a… Different definition of virginal blood. As in, when there is first blood from vaginal sex.” Stiles tries not to make a face; he doesn’t think it works. “But you can also spill the blood of someone who has been unsullied by sex and sexual acts, and it can have very strong powers, in the right circumstance. This practice has become more common just after the end of the medieval ages, and is, unfortunately, still practiced today, but usually by those who are… Darker than us.”

Stiles wants to ask what exactly he means by darker, but he thinks he can make his own guess as to what that means; someone who is more evil, more prone to evil ways, a druid witch bitch, like Jennifer.

“Oh,” he says and, yet again, something clicks in his head. “Wait, so, I told Jennifer about a lot of things, especially regarding the Derek situation and my, ahem, feelings and whatever towards him and she always was giving me bad advice, like to drop him or ignore him or whatever and she got me all turned around and confused about him and—but that isn’t the point. The point is that she—it seemed like she was trying to keep Derek and I apart or something, do you think that maybe she—”

“She probably didn’t want you two to make up and… Sully you.” Stiles can’t tell if he appreciates the careful way Deaton is choosing his words or if it just makes it all the more awkward. “That would be plausible, as well as her trying to sever the mate bond you two have.”

“But why sever the bond? If Derek and I already weren’t gonna fuck—” Chris visibly cringes at the word choice, like the dad he is, being forced to think about his kid having sex “—then why sever the bond?”

“Well, it’s only a guess, but I suppose she could want to sever it to debilitate him. You know that losing your mate is a crushing experience, and it’s felt far more deeply by supernatural creatures, especially werewolves, given their existing connections and knowledge of bonds and the bonding experience. It could be done as the ultimate hurt to you, it could be done to spite him for being the Great Alpha’s son. I don’t know her intentions, but Chris is probably right: you probably don’t want to find out.”

Stiles blows out a breath and puts his hands on his hips, taking a moment to let the whole conversation soak in. So, Jennifer is trying to sacrifice him to power up the Nemeton and potentially destroy the world or something, all while trying to come in between him and his mate and keep him virginal so his blood will be sweeter (fuck her) and possibly break Derek’s spirit and will (fuck her); the Nemeton is basically a nuclear bomb that will blow up if slightly provoked; and the rogue Alpha bit his friends specifically and with intention, the intention not being to hurt Stiles necessarily, but rather some unseen nefarious reason that Stiles, as everyone’s said, probably doesn’t want to find out about. That about sums it up. Not hard at all.

Stiles thinks about what Deaton said about werewolves and the bonding experience and feeling it more deeply, which Derek has told him this all before, to an extent, and something new crosses his mind.

“Do you think it’s possible for a druid to, say, negate the effects of a bond?” He asks, suspicious. “I mean like with magic, so that those affected by the bond can’t feel the normal things you feel in a bond, like emotions and relative distance and all that.”

Deaton makes a contemplative face and Chris looks at him, evidently not wanting to weigh in or perhaps not knowing enough about either subject, which is plausible. Stiles is grateful that they’re answering all his questions though, and don’t seem to mind him jumping around a lot.

“I suppose it would be possible. They would most likely have to have a DNA sample from all parties connected to the bond, however. It’d be bound magic, spell work, a bit below druids’ sophistication and it wouldn’t last very long, the effects won’t be felt forever. And depending on how strong the bond is, depends on how strong the magic would be required to negate the bond. If the magic user doing the spell work wasn’t strong enough to hold the spell, the bond would resort back to normal. Why do you ask? Do you think Jennifer has messed with your bond?”

Stiles nods. “That’s exactly what I think. Derek and I, a bit ago, couldn’t feel each other through the bond. And it didn’t last very long, maybe a weekend or so, and it was cloudy afterward, but it’s all back to normal now.”

Deaton hums. “Yours and Derek’s bond is rather strong, which means that her grasp of magic is pretty good. Though I suppose that makes sense, the ritual of human sacrifice, and with a spark no less, will not be an easy one. It’ll be very taxing for her and she’ll need to be both strong and formidable in her magic and mentality.”

“Well,” Stiles claps his hands together, “let’s not make this easy on her then.” He smiles and catches sight of the clock on the far wall. “Oh, hey, look, it’s way later than I meant to stay and I’m sure I’ve taken up enough of your time, but thank you for answering all my questions, seriously.”

Deaton smiles. “You and your curiosity are always welcome here, Stiles,” he says, a bit more sentimental than he usually is, but Stiles will take it.

“Yes, it’s been nice to talk to you, Stiles,” Chris says and extends his hand. Stiles isn’t sure if he exactly means that, but he appreciates the gesture.

He shakes Chris’ hand and holds him there for a moment. “Oh, and no telling Talia, remember?”

Chris takes his hand back. “There’s a lot I need to talk to her about regarding this series of events—”

“I’m sure there is, but I want to tell her everything for myself. And there are some things she doesn’t need to be concerned with for the time being. Let me handle this.”

“That’s a lot to ask of the both of us, especially me. There’s a rogue Alpha, a rogue druid, and a shadow ‘dude’ wandering around the town and you expect me to sit back and let a sixteen-year-old kid handle it?”

“I expect you to let a spark and the true Hale Emissary handle it,” Stiles shoots back, crossing his arms over his chest. “And, no offense, but I didn’t come here to tell _you_ the information, I came here to tell _him_.” Stiles jabs a thumb in Deaton’s direction. “You got filled in on everything by pure accident and because I decided to trust you with all this information, information that is quite literally life or death to me. I trusted you despite not knowing anything more about you than the fact that you’re a Hunter and who your daughters are. I like to think that, after all of that, we’re friends now, and therefore I’m trusting you and asking you as a _friend_ not to tell Talia until I can. I’m asking both of you as friends.”

Deaton nods immediately and Chris looks reluctant, but after a moment, he nods his head.

“Fine,” he bites out.

Stiles nods. “Thank you both. I’ll come back when I have more information, and we can try to come up with a plan later to stop everything. See ya.”

Stiles ducks back out into the main office and leaves the building, flipping Deaton’s sign to closed as he goes.

+++

The next day, Stiles doesn’t head over to the Hale House until close to noon, texting Jennifer that they can meet up that night. He knows from a text from Theo that mostly everyone is going to the lake today, which means a rather empty house and Stiles, now that he knows he can touch Derek freely, wants nothing more than to do just so. He texts Derek and tells him he’ll be over in twenty and gets in his car to head over.

He somehow gets a flat before he even gets to the main street, which is a bit weird because Stiles knows he didn’t hit anything on the way leaving his house and most likely didn’t hit anything last night on his way back from Deaton’s, but he decides not to question it and gets out to change it.

It takes him fifteen minutes to fix it mainly because the lug nuts just wouldn’t come off no matter how hard Stiles pulled at them, but he finally gets it changed and throws the popped one in the back with all the tools his parents make him keep in there, which have come in handy with a beast as temperamental as Roscoe.

He decides not to bother texting Derek about the delay, because he’ll be there soon enough and it doesn’t really matter anyway. They’re still going to be able to spend all day alone together regardless, what difference is fifteen minutes gonna make?

He pulls up to the house and parks in his usual spot and hurries inside, calling out to Derek once he’s indoors. He gets no response so he decides to try for the kitchen first, as it’s almost midday and Derek’s an avid snacker, no matter how much he denies it.

When Stiles walks into the kitchen, no one other than Jennifer is about to walk out the sliding door, a folded towel in her hands. She glances over and smiles when she sees him.

“Stiles! Are you coming to the lake with us? Talia invited the Alphas and Emissaries last minute.”

Stiles shakes his head. “Maybe later. Have you seen Derek? He’s home, right?”

“Yeah, actually, I saw him head upstairs, I think to his room. Are you guys gonna try and work it out?”

The pout on her face makes Stiles want to punch her, but he refrains. Barely. He decides to play into her games.

“Well, I’m gonna talk to him, I think, but I don’t know which direction it’s gonna go in. I just never know with him,” he says sadly, hoping she buys it.

Jennifer clucks her tongue and shakes her head. “You deserve better, sweetie. I just hope you get it.”

That last bit almost sounded like a threat and Stiles wonders how long she’s been doing that, too.

“Me too. Thanks for always listening,” he says, smiling gently at her. Jennifer beams at him.

“Of course, Stiles. I’m always here for you.” Then she gestures with the towel. “I’m gonna head out there. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Sure thing. You guys have fun!” Jennifer grins at him and walks outside, shutting the door behind her and venturing off into the forest toward the lake.

Stiles, belatedly, wonders how she’s so well-acquainted with this territory, but he figures that must be part of her evil plan, so whatever.

He heads up the back staircase and takes the shortcut to Derek’s room, knocking once before opening the door. He opens his mouth to speak and is greeted by the sight of Derek kissing Kate Argent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so first and foremost, i wanna say that there is absolutely NO infidelity in this story whatsoever. and not no infidelity because they "aren't technically together yet" and whatever, i mean straight up NO infidelity in any way, shape, or form. i'm sorry for leaving this as a cliffhanger, but a) i couldn't help myself, i love shock value and b) i literally could not find a good enough place to cut the next chapter and add it to this and this chapter was already extra long because all of the plot. but i promise it's going to be okay. i will spoil slightly and say it'll be angsty for like maybe a short paragraph and then it clears up. i promise, i'm leaving the heavy angst behind, this is not that and it does have significance to the plot, it will be okay
> 
> that being said, there was a lot of plot this chapter and a lot of stiles trying to figure everything out, with friends! if any of you guessed he'd go to these two, or either of them alone (though guessing chris might've been hard bc he hasn't really been here) then you were right! and he doesn't want to hide the information from talia, he just wants to be the one to tell her himself because he feels responsible for everything that's happened. working harder and getting smarter, y'all
> 
> also, i'm sorry again that there's point five seconds of derek in this chapter and the last bit doesn't look good, but next chapter is so fluffy (again) that y'all will be pleased, i think! the next chapter was one i had to heavily rewrite because i planned on actually having derek and kate kiss, though derek was under a compulsion spell and kate had a glamour looking like a certain someone, and then i was like, not only is that way out of left field, but that's so much trauma and sadness that we're going to have to fight through and for no good reason, so i rewrote all of that and just kinda stuck with the significance of having them kiss without having to write all the issues that come with that happening (so spoiler alert: they don't actually kiss here, no derek/kate y'all just no. just gonna say that again so i don't scare anyone away) but then i rewrote the chapter and it's hella fluffy and starts working on tying up loose ends and is just all around a good time
> 
> next couple of chapters, actually, are pretty fluffy, so i hope you guys are prepared for that because i know i am! also: information about the wolfsbane i was liberal with and the nemeton information i literally got off the teen wolf wiki, though i think it's fascinating and tried to add in my own thoughts and theories as well. (i was actually pretty liberal with all the information we see here, but uh it's fine don't worry)
> 
> a lot happened in this chapter, so if you guys wanna talk, please tell me what you're thinking, if you have any ideas or theories, any concerns (i'm sure there will be a few) or comments, i wanna hear it! sorry for a long end note and thank you! <3


	23. the secret inside of you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let’s get out of town,” Derek whispers against his lips after a moment. Stiles can’t help but smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this could alternatively be titled, "the one where stiles tells almost everyone pretty much everything," so i hope y'all are ready for some of that. also, the beginning three-ish paragraphs are angsty for like a quick second and then there's a little more angst halfway down because it was necessary to plot and like that's about it. everything else is fluffy so enjoy!
> 
> also, not relevant, but 23rd chapter on the 23rd, crazy coincidence and i'm here for it
> 
> chapter title comes from "run boy run" by woodkid, get song that i associate with stiles easily, and actually teen wolf in general

Stiles… Doesn’t know how to describe what he’s feeling right now. For some reason, everything sort of shuts down and he stops being able to process what he’s seeing. There’s alarm bells ringing because his brain is trying to tell him something, tell him this isn’t right, but he doesn’t hear it fully.

He shuts the door and starts to walk away and something… Just really doesn’t feel right. More than what he just saw, because what he saw doesn’t feel real. Not in a processing sort of way, but in a genuinely doesn’t feel real sort of way.

He pauses, halfway down the hall and thinks back. Then he turns and goes back to Derek’s room and opens the door. Derek and Kate are no longer there, only a golden haze suspended in the sunlight, which confirms the train of thought Stiles was having. It didn’t feel real because it wasn’t. That’s good. That’s really fucking good.

He only gets a second of clarity before there’s a rumbling sort of noise and the room turns dark, shadows pulling in from nowhere and gathering at the center of the room. He knows what’s just happened immediately.

“Shit!” Stiles takes off down the hall before it finishes forming.

_Again with this shit?!_ He curses as he runs down the hall, down toward the front staircase. He hears the shadow creature tearing after him and, given what he’s learned with Jennifer, he could probably stand a real chance with the nalusa chito, considering what he’s done when he was accidentally on the defense. But they’re inside the Hale House, and he doesn’t want to destroy anything anymore than the nalusa chito already surely has.

He knows he has to get outside at least. It’s a long ways away from the lake, at least hearing wise, but maybe Talia’s superior Alpha ears will hear something. Or Peter will feel something, since he’s so in tune with the supernatural world apparently. That’s assuming he’s there with everybody and not just vanished into thin air like he normally does.

And where’s Derek in all this? Jennifer clearly set him up, he gets that, and he’s going to kill her for this, trying to use Derek against him like that. Luckily she didn’t go for the real thing. Stiles shudders just thinking about it.

(Which, this means she conjured the nalusa chito, doesn’t it? God, he should’ve known. He knew something was off with her, he just didn’t know how deep it ran. That’s something he’s gonna have to deal with later when he’s not being actively chased.)

There’s a large crashing sound behind him and that same roaring sound that he’s heard what’s easily too many times before. Something swipes at him, he can feel the air behind his back move, but thankfully he’s too quick as he bounds down the stairs. He darts toward the back of the house just as the big chandelier that hangs in the foyer comes crashing down. Some of the broken pieces hit the backs of Stiles’ legs, but he barely feels it as he makes his way to the kitchen and out the back door and down the deck stairs.

When he runs a good twenty feet from the door, gets closer to the tree line, he turns around and plants himself. The shadow comes blasting through the back doors a second later, glass and wood splinters flying out with it. It roars when it sees Stiles.

A different roar comes through the trees and Stiles is stupidly grateful for Derek and him always knowing when to be there.

Derek comes up from behind him, barefoot with a T-shirt and cut-off jeans, looking way too much like Jacob from Twilight for it to be legal, or for Stiles to definitely not make fun of him for later, but he snarls and comes up in front of Stiles, getting into a protective, defensive stance. But Stiles merely pushes past him and stands protectively in front of Derek.

“I got this,” he tells Derek, summoning blue fire in his hands, encasing them like gloves. He hears Derek make a confused noise behind him, but ignores it in favor of glaring down the nalusa chito.

“I thought I told you to stay away,” he sneers, rolling his hand. He’s not entirely sure this is going to work, but mainly he’s just hoping that he doesn’t accidentally set the Hale House on fire.

The nalusa chito rolls naturally and darts forward and Stiles instinctively brings a hand up, the fire shooting from his palm and hitting the shadow squarely in the, well, body region, its red eyes disappearing temporarily as it shrieks. It cries out again and rushes forward past Stiles and Derek, the light bending with it unnaturally as it goes.

Stiles cools it with the fire hands, double checks to make sure there’s no crispy damage to the Hale House, and turns to Derek, checking him over once visually.

“Are you okay?” he asks. Derek gives an incredulous look.

“Am _I_ okay? You were just firebending!”

Stiles laughs at the reference and glances down at his hands. “Not really what I meant to do, but yeah. I’ve been meaning to tell you about that.”

Not a second later he hears another snarl and half the Hale pack appears, wolfed out. Stiles smiles, grateful that they came too and no longer feeling upset that they—that Talia—always shows up “late” because at least they’re here now, and they’re definitely showing that they care.

“Stiles!” Talia rushes to him, briefly looking around for the threat.

“I’m okay,” he promises as she grips his shoulders. Derek stands just behind him. “It was the shadow monster. It, um, kinda destroyed your house. I’m sorry.”

“But it didn’t get you,” Talia says. “That’s what’s important.”

“Deaton’s training is working,” he declares and glances over at Derek, who gives him a weird look but doesn’t outright say anything. Stiles will definitely tell Derek about Jennifer, get a game plan down first before he tells Talia, especially because he wants to be on the same level of thought as Derek, especially about this important stuff. “And Derek was here.”

“A good thing then,” Talia says with a smile, putting one of her hands on Derek’s shoulder as well. “I thought it was weird that he took off so suddenly, and then I heard it. It’s good that you boys are always looking out for each other.”

“Yeah, it is,” Stiles agrees, and then clears his throat. “So, um, about the house—”

“Don’t worry about it. Just tell us what happened.”

So Stiles explains the whole walking into Derek’s room and seeing the shadows, purposely leaving out the bit about seeing Derek and Kate for a quick second, because he’s pretty sure that was like a living nightmare that was an effect of the nalusa chito, something that he could see while awake, but was just as terrifying and soul crushing as seeing his loved ones getting horribly murdered in his dreams.

Talia makes a contemplative face. “I wasn’t sure it could come out in the daylight.”

Stiles wasn’t either, which he guesses supports Jennifer’s claim about being attacked during the day, but if she’s the one doing the attacking, or rather controlling the nalusa chito since it seems to be its own entity, then her whole bogus story about being attacked by the nalusa chito is just that: a story. God, there’s so much she lied about, and that Stiles fell for. Well, not entirely. He was suspicious of her, but he just thought she was really weird and hated Talia, not that she was the one pretty much behind the whole plot to kill him.

Yeah, he’s definitely got to talk to Derek about this and together they can go to Talia and get this shit sorted out once and for all. He’d do it alone, but a) he’s quickly learning how genuinely good of an idea it is to include people in on things, specifically people like Derek, who, even though they’re not always agreeing, always is looking out for Stiles and has his best interests in mind. Took him a long time to get here, but he trusts Derek implicitly and with information like this, which is why he now needs to get Derek alone, which shouldn’t be too hard.

“It surprised me, too,” Stiles admits. Then, “Do you think Derek could come home with me? I’m just a little nervous.”

“Of course. Derek?”

Derek nods and steps up, putting a hand on Stiles’ lower back and guiding him back through the house. The back doors are pretty much gone, the wood and glass all over the deck and down onto the dirt beyond that. The deck railing is singed, and inside there’s no notable damage in the kitchen, but the great chandelier from the foyer is destroyed and there’s ash trails on the walls, and everything kind of smells like smoke. Stiles doesn’t even want to imagine what Derek’s room is like.

Derek leads him out the front door and to the Jeep and holds out his hands for the keys. Stiles rolls his eyes, because he doesn’t let anybody drive the Jeep ever, except like his parents and Scott once or twice, but also Derek has always been different and he did let Stiles drive the Camaro that one time they ran into Kate. Stiles sighs and relents, handing over the keys.

When they get all settled in the car, Stiles insists, “I’m fine, Derek. It didn’t even scratch me this time.”

“You can be physically fine and not be fine. I would know.” Derek says the last bit quietly, but it hurts Stiles’ heart all the same. He reaches across the console and grabs Derek’s knee, squeezing it. Derek doesn’t say anything, but he gives Stiles this tiny grateful look.

“I think Kali’s Emissary Jennifer did this,” Stiles confesses, glancing over to gauge Derek’s expression. Derek’s face pulls together in slight confusion.

“What do you mean? I thought this was the nalusa chito?”

Stiles shakes his head. “She’s controlling it. I talked to Deaton and, well, Chris Argent, actually, and we came to the conclusion that she’s a bitch. However, she’s also the reason I knew how to summon that fire. I’ve, uh, been training with her in secret.”

Derek groans. “Stiles, why would you—”

“I know, I know. I shouldn’t’ve been training with her in secret and I should’ve told you sooner and there’s a lot I should’ve told you, but I’m telling you now. That’s gotta count for something.”

Derek throws a small glare at him. “Not enough. Why do you think she’s controlling the shadow?”

“Well, Chris and Deaton and I came to the conclusion that Jennifer is trying to sacrifice me ritually, uh, presumably to get more power or something, the details are still fuzzy.”

“ _What_ —”

“But it’s probably gonna be okay!” Stiles grabs Derek’s knee again, rubbing circles with his thumb into Derek’s bare skin. “And it makes sense that she’s controlling it, because when I came over—late, by the way, I got a flat and didn’t think it was necessary to text you, but apparently it was because I got there and of course Jennifer was there to greet me and told me where to find you and when I went upstairs, I saw—”

Stiles cuts himself off, accidentally squeezing Derek’s knee as he remembers the split second of panic where he thought what he was seeing was real. The only thing that made him realize it wasn’t was the thought that Derek would never do that to him, no matter how bad it got, Derek would never ever betray his trust like that.

Because they talked and apologized and Stiles has realized just how deep they’re both in it, how much it means for both of them, how this is probably it and they’re both totally okay with that. It’s still scary and it probably won’t stop being scary for a while, but it’s also thrilling, something new for them to explore together and with each other specifically.

But still. Seeing Derek and Kate had temporarily shattered something in Stiles because it scared the shit out of him. This improbable impossibility suddenly became tangible and was right in front of his eyes, literally one of his worst nightmares confirmed, never mind that it would never happen, because nightmares are like that, and they don’t allow you to think at first that what you’re seeing isn’t logical, they just give you what they know you’re terrified of.

And Stiles is, as he’s always been, terrified of losing Derek, in any capacity. That’s what it is, isn’t it? He’s just scared of losing Derek. It’d be worse than losing a limb, it’d be like—like… It’s so unfathomable that he can’t even describe it. But as he’s come to realize exactly how deep his feelings run and how much he needs Derek more than he can explain, he’s realized he just doesn’t want to lose Derek.

“You saw what?” Derek prompts. Stiles doesn’t really want to tell him because he’s not exactly sure what Derek’s reaction will be, but if he’s going to do this, he needs to be honest with him.

“I saw—it _made me see_ you and—and Kate Argent. Kissing. I thought it was real for a second, and then I realized that you would never do that, Derek, you would never ever do that, to me or yourself. That’s when I went back to your room and opened the door and the shadow came in. It—it was showing me one of my worst nightmares, I assume to, I don’t know, tear me apart? Tear us apart? I’m not sure what Jennifer’s goal is, but I’m confident she’s using the nalusa chito against me. Against us.”

Derek is quiet, like more quiet than Stiles is okay with him being, and he’s pretty sure he’s not quiet because this random druid they don’t really know wants to break up their newly founded relationship—which it still even feels weird calling it that with that specific connotation—but rather because Stiles’ worst nightmare is Derek kissing Kate Argent, which, to be fair, that’s probably Derek’s worst nightmare, too.

“So, um, that’s what happened,” Stiles finishes, still squeezing Derek’s knee. He realized this and pulls his hand away, putting it back in his lap. Thankfully, by this point, they’ve reached Stiles’ house, thanks to Stiles pausing so frequently and Derek’s fast driving, so Derek hearing this revelation doesn’t lead to any accidents or swerving or whatever, as Derek’s parked next to the cruiser, staring straight ahead.

Slowly, he turns his face toward Sties and says, very quietly, “You saw me and Kate kissing?”

“Yeah,” Stiles laughs awkwardly and in a desperate way to help dissipate the tension, “but I know that you would never do that.”

“That’s your worst nightmare?” He’s much quieter now and Stiles isn’t sure how to comfort him.

“Um, yeah. Losing you, actually,” Stiles says, getting quiet himself, dropping his head down and pulling his hand off Derek’s knee, playing with his hands in his lap. There’s a beat before Stiles feels a hand on his chin, lifting his head and turning his face toward Derek’s.

Derek stares into his eyes and says, “You’re not ever going to lose me. Not if I can help it.”

Stiles wants to say that Derek can’t promise things like that, that he can’t assure that Derek’s never gonna go away or, God forbid, die on Stiles and leave him alone. Just like he can’t promise Stiles can always be protected, because something will always go wrong, it’s bound to happen, it’s just a matter of when and where. He wants to say that Derek shouldn’t promise things like that because there’s too many contingencies, too many ways this whole thing could go wrong and come tumbling down on them. But the thought of trying anyway, of getting the opportunity to be with and love each other, for any amount of time, as long as they’re able, it’s too good to pass up.

Stiles moves forward and kisses Derek, whose hands moves up to either side of Stiles’ face as Stiles places his hand back on Derek’s knee to get closer to him.

“Let’s get out of town,” Derek whispers against his lips after a moment. Stiles can’t help but smile.

“Out of town?” He asks, taking the opportunity of their lips brushing to kiss Derek again. They lose themselves for a moment in the sensation of their mouths moving against each other before Derek pulls back.

“We can go to the beach house,” he suggests. Ah, yes, the infamous beach house. Easily worth a couple million dollars, fairly secluded, and with plenty of bedrooms that have been used to sleep Derek’s large family and even Stiles and his parents a few times—in separate rooms at that. Stiles opens his mouth to agree when Derek keeps talking. “We can bring the others if you want.”

“Now might be a little short notice to get everyone together. What about next weekend?”

Not that Stiles really wants everyone to go, but if Derek is suggesting it, then he supposes he’ll go along with it. Besides, plenty of space both in that house and on the beach to get away if they want to.

“Okay, sure,” Derek agrees, bites at Stiles’ lip, making him smile again. “I feel like a teenager.”

“You _are_ a teenager, you weirdo,” Stiles laughs. Derek shakes his head.

“No, I feel like a stupid, lovesick teenager. You make me feel like a stupid, lovesick teenager,” he clarifies, and Stiles’ heart does that familiar leaping thing it does whenever Derek says something mildly nice nowadays.

“Well, that’s exactly what you are, baby. A stupid—” he punctuates this with a kiss “—lovesick—” another kiss, longer and deeper than the first “— _teenager_.”

Derek practically jumps across the console to attack him with kisses, causing Stiles to laugh and teeter back a bit, flailing his arms as he tries to catch himself and simultaneously grab Derek’s face.

He laughs as Derek continues kissing him, nuzzling their faces together.

“You actually think our parents will let us go out of town together?” Stiles asks between his giggles. Derek makes a rumbling sort of noise from deep within his chest and mouths up the side of Stiles’ neck, which makes him shiver and let out an involuntary groan.

“Are you kidding? They’ve been pushing to get us together for ages. They’d be elated we’re so much as talking. Not to mention all the rest…” Derek trails off purposefully, his hand curling around Stiles’ hip, fingers under his shirt.

“If you’re talking about the way you’re currently trying to defile me in my mom’s old Jeep in the driveway of my parent’s house, then I’m not so sure that elated is the word I’d use to describe how they’d feel about all that,” Stiles says as Derek comes back up to meet his lips. Derek’s hand slips further up his shirt, fingers dancing across his ribs.

There’s a sharp rap on the window and Derek and Stiles jump apart, pulling their hands back to themselves. When Stiles looks, his dad is standing next to his passenger side window dressed in his uniform and looking all too much like the cat who got the cream.

“Roll down the window, son,” John instructs and Stiles guiltily does. “Do you boys know how fast you were going?”

Stiles glares at his dad, his cheeks heating up. “Your dad cop jokes aren’t funny, you realize that, right?”

“Gettin’ a little handsy there, huh, Derek?”

Stiles glances back to see Derek blushing furiously and tries his best not to break out into laughter. Yeah, it’s pretty embarrassing getting caught by his dad, but at least John’s a relatively cool parent.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Derek rushes out and Stiles can’t help the peals of laughter he breaks into. He catches the angry glance Derek throws his way and the more bemused one his father watches him with.

“Didn’t realize you two were at the tonsil hockey stage. Would’ve been nice if you’d given us an update, Stiles,” John says pointedly, giving Stiles a little glare. Stiles winces.

“Sorry? You know, the ironic thing is that we just came here to fill you guys in.”

“Well, you might wanna fill your mother in on all that, I gotta go to my shift.”

“Can you be like fifteen minutes late? There’s more than just the fact that me and Derek are dating.”

Dating. Huh. He doesn’t think he’s ever properly said that aloud, because they really haven’t discussed it. But, honestly, it’s kinda obvious, because where else would they go from here?

“We’re dating? Derek stage-whispers. Stiles looks at him and grabs his hand from where it’s resting on the console.

“Duh,” he says simply before turning back to his dad. “Can you spare a few minutes?”

“Oh, I think I can squeeze you boys in,” John says and gestures for them to come inside. Stiles cranks the window back up and Derek turns off the ignition and they head inside to talk to Stiles’ parents.

They catch them up on completely everything, all three of them actually. Claudia literally applauds them and then gets up and hugs each of them individually before pulling them in for a family hug when Stiles says he and Derek are dating, saying she’s so proud of them and what they’ve done, who they’ve become. John calls Derek “son” and this time it’s different than the times he’s done it before, more real and tangible and suddenly there’s a real shot of a future attached to it.

All these fantasies burst into technicolor, so much closer than they ever were before.

And he tells them all about Jennifer, about everything he’s suspected from her, what he learned from her, what he talked about with Chris and Deaton, all of it, as much as he can think of right now. They all listen with only mild judgment about Stiles’ stupidity, but mainly show their support and try to find solutions.

Before long though, John has to go to work, but not before Stiles brings up the beach house idea.

“It’d just be the pack. I mean, our friend group. Scott, Allison, Lydia, Theo, all them.”

“A bunch of teenagers in a secluded beach house? Yeah, that’s a good idea,” John snorts.

“Semi-secluded,” Stiles corrects cheekily. John rolls his eyes.

“Maybe it’d be a good way for them to learn responsibility,” Claudia says. “Though I do think one or two of the older wolves should go with you. Last time you guys all got together, you were attacked. Who’s to say that’s only limited to Beacon Hills? We don’t know enough. If you’re going to go, you’re going to have to be properly prepared this time around.”

“Mom’ll be too busy watching stuff here,” Derek says.

“But Laura and Thomas won’t! Or Grant, for that matter,” Stiles suggests. Derek nods.

“Thomas actually has a business trip this week and I don’t think he’ll be back until the middle of the weekend, maybe even early next week. But Laura and Grant could come. I’m sure they would if we asked them to. If _you_ asked them to.”

“Please, those two would do anything for you, they’d just give you shit for it first.”

“Then Laura and Grant can go with you guys,” Claudia agrees. “And we’ll feel better that way. Right, John?”

“Personally, I’d feel better if you guys didn’t leave town and I think it’s weird you’re trying to go out of town the weekend after spring break, but if your mother is happy, then I’m happy,” John concedes, looking slightly put upon and giving Claudia a look that she ignores. Claudia smiles and claps her hands together.

“ _Fajnie_!” Claudia stands up and brings the boys in for a hug again. “I really am happy for you two.”

“ _Dzięki, Mamo_ ,” Stiles says against her shoulder. He hears a quiet, “ _Dzięki_ ,” from her other shoulder and smiles because, yes, he was totally right about hearing Derek actually speak Polish and how totally hot it would be. He doesn’t even know when Derek could’ve possibly learned that, if it’s the one bit of Polish he knows or if he’s learned more. He figures he’ll have plenty of time to figure that out.

+++

They get through the rest of spring break without much incident. Surprisingly, or maybe unsurprisingly, Jennifer doesn’t text him to get him to come back to training. Stiles assumes either she thinks he’s dead or incapacitated, which is unlikely, because Jennifer doesn’t seem like the type of person to not confirm her suspicions, which means that she’s giving him space, or something of the sort. Maybe she figured her little plan worked and Stiles is now all heartbroken and fighting with Derek or something. Luckily, that’s not the case, but he’s guessing Jennifer doesn’t know that and he can easily use that to his advantage.

The only thing left to do at this moment is ask Talia to go on vacation, but they’ve gotta tell her about everything else first. Stiles wants to do this right from here on out, no more tripping over his own feet and not knowing where to go or how to get to the next part safely. He’s gonna try to actually be smart from now on. He really can’t see anyone else get hurt.

So they decide on Monday after school because it just works best with everyone’s schedule. They go to school and see all their friends, ask how everyone’s been, and they don’t really make a point to note that they’re suddenly dating. There’s little touching, no kissing, nothing outward, on both their parts and Stiles assumes that it’s because both of them are still a bit hesitant about the relationship, specifically around other people. It’s one thing to be themselves around themselves, another to be like that around their parents and families, but to be that way at school? It’s not that they’re afraid of their friends knowing, but it’s other people, it’s not exactly knowing how to act around them because it almost feels like a show, like it isn’t genuine. Stiles figures it’ll get better with time and they’ll grow to be more comfortable around each other in public, but for at least right now, it’s just the same as it always has been.

No one comments on how they were fighting the Friday before break and are better, either, probably not wanting to get into it in fear of starting another fight. And Stiles knows they’re all fine now after the apology thing they did, but their friends can think whatever.

The oddest thing is that Stiles doesn’t see the Alpha twins. He barely saw them the Friday after Derek went all protective mate on them in the cafeteria, hasn’t heard anything about them telling people that they’re mates, nothing. They’re not in Stiles’ classes or at lunch and Stiles thinks that that’s rather odd, but decides maybe that’s something to put on the back burner for right now.

They make it through school fine, Stiles actually participates in lacrosse, much to Coach Finstock’s displeasure, and he and Derek drive in separate cars to the Hale House. They approach Talia who’s already in the study and doing what looks like casework, but Stiles doesn’t know terribly much about what it means to be a lawyer, so it could be anything.

“Hey, Mom, can we talk to you?” Derek asks, excelling at playing the nervous son. Talia glances up and raises an eyebrow.

“Nothing serious, I hope,” she jokes, a smirk sliding onto her face when she sees Derek’s expression. “You didn’t knock Stiles up already, did you?”

“Jesus, you’re just as bad as my dad,” Stiles comments, shaking his head. Talia laughs and Derek flushes.

“N-no, we—Mom, we just—”

“We wanted to fill you in on everything that’s been happening,” Stiles says, taking pity on Derek. “Including the fact that we’re dating.”

“ _Stiles_ ,” Derek hisses and Stiles grabs his hand, mostly because he knows it’ll quiet Derek. And it does. Talia smirks at the two of them.

“Not to be rude, boys, but I feel this is a ‘no kidding’ kind of moment.”

“Well, we only just got together, like, what, Derek, a couple days ago? Less than a week. But, uh, yeah, it’s been a long time coming,” Stiles says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck.

He likes that he’s decided that they’re dating and better yet, that Derek has been agreeing with him and going along with it, more concerned it seems by Stiles’ direct and shameless method of telling people, which, you know, always a bonus, especially if he can fluster Derek.

He’s also more than well aware just how long it took for them to get on the same page and come to an understanding, and a huge catalyst of that was Theo telling him to get his head out of his ass, although he was sort of planning to talk to Derek before she said anything anyway, not that anyone would believe him if he said that, but it’s whatever at this point. They’ve made it, despite all odds. That’s what counts.

“Well, we knew you’d make it here eventually,” Talia says and puts a hand on either of their upper arms. “I’m proud of you boys. You two deserve to be happy.”

It sounds more like something you say to two people getting married, but it works all the same. Stiles smiles at her and thanks her a tad sheepishly and she relents, but not before kissing both of their cheeks.

“Mom!” Derek complains, sounding all too much like his age, as she pulls away and leans back against her desk.

“Oh, please, you’re not embarrassed,” she dismisses. “I gave birth to you and helped raise you both, this is probably the least embarrassing conversation the three of us will have during your teenage years.”

“Mom,” Derek groans, putting his face in his hands, his default gesture for when he gets embarrassed. Stiles laughs at him and Talia rolls her eyes.

“There’s more we want to tell you, though,” Stiles says and Talia turns her face toward him in a clear sign she’s listening.

So he goes through the process again of talking about what he’s learned from Jennifer and what he suspects, even what she said about Talia (to an extent, because Stiles doesn’t really want to repeat everything. Some things you’re better left not knowing, especially when it comes to people’s unwarranted vehement hatred towards you. He’s told her the most important information, at least). He tells her about talking with Chris and Deaton, the sound barrier and their theories about the next moon and the Alpha, anything else he’s been hiding for the sake of safety or whatever his excuses have been. Derek chips in where he knows stuff, but it’s mainly Stiles running the show since he’s the one who’s been thinking it’s smart to keep things secret.

But he’s airing it all out now, because he’s gotta make a game plan about Jennifer. If she really is the cause of all of this, since way back before he even met her, he needs to figure out why and how to stop her. Who’s the Alpha? Kali? Or someone else? There’s still a lot of unknowns.

“I see…” Talia says, pursing her lips. She throws her eyebrows up, but doesn’t look the least bit surprised. “Well, that certainly is concerning.”

“That’s all you’re going to say?” Derek asks, and then holds his hands out. “Not to be rude, Mom, but this lady is questioning your fitness as Great Alpha and is trying to kill Stiles and that’s all you have?”

“No. It’s an issue we’re definitely going to be looking into, I just can’t say I’m surprised. I figured one of them was going to turn against me, but I wasn’t sure who. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. We’ll come to a solution to stop Jennifer, figure out who is the Alpha.”

“Well, as much as I appreciate that, what if I kept working with Jennifer?” Stiles proposes.

“You can’t be serious, Stiles,” Derek says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hear me out! She doesn’t know—I assume—that I know about her and what she’s done. I could use that to our advantage. Keep working with her and work on my spark while playing the distraught mate card; it’s too easy. Work some information out of her while I’m at it.”

“It’s risky,” Talia says. “What if she finds out that you’re onto her?”

“Well, we’ll be smarter about that. I’m not too bad at handling myself nowadays, thanks to her, and either Derek or one of the other wolves can supervise from a distance.”

“Who’s to say she won’t use her magic to block out our senses like she did in the woods that one time?” Derek counters. He has a point; what she did with the sound barrier and fooling the Hales into thinking everyone was okay, she could easily do that again. Stiles doesn’t know how to counteract that.

“You’re right, we have no way of knowing what she’ll do or try. But I genuinely think it’s worth a shot.”

“And what if she decides to hurt you, huh? What if she randomly chooses to sacrifice you and you’re not strong enough to protect yourself against her and no one is there to hear you? What then, Stiles? Because we can’t risk you getting hurt or worse. _I_ can’t risk that. I can’t risk losing you.”

Stiles grabs Derek’s hands and squeezes them. “You’re not ever going to lose me. Not if I can help it,” Stiles parrots back Derek’s words from last week when they talked about Stiles’ fear of losing Derek. Derek gets this wonderful expression on his face, like Stiles has confessed his love in the most poetic of ways (and he kinda has, in a weird way) and given Derek the greatest of gifts.

“The risk is yours to choose, Stiles,” Talia tells him. “I don’t think it’s the smartest idea, but you are the Emissary of the Hale pack and I will follow your lead. Though if we do this, we do it safely.”

Stiles looks at Derek. “I’m not doing this without your okay.”

Derek steps forward and gently grabs Stiles’ face, kissing him. Then he says, “If you die, I’ll kill you.”

Stiles laughs and nods. “Ditto.”

Talia smiles and says, “We’ll make arrangements then. Is there anything else you boys need to tell me?”

“Actually, we wanted to ask something,” Stiles says, turning to face Talia, but not stepping out of Derek’s grasp. “We wanted to see if we could go to the beach house with our pack. We would bring some of the older wolves with us, too. We were thinking Laura and Grant, just in case something happens.”

Talia presses her lips together and hums. “Well, I’m not sure that’s the best of ideas either. But I do like the thought of you bringing Laura and Grant, as Laura is meant to act as Alpha in my absence and would be able to keep you safe. Not to mention Derek’s been practicing—”

“Oh, right,” Derek interrupts and turns to Stiles. “Yeah, since we’re getting things off our chest, I suppose I should tell you that. I wanted it to be a surprise, but it’s okay. I’ve been trying a full shift.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. A full shift is no easy feat, which is why only Peter, Talia, and Laura have been able to accomplish it. Others have done it too though. It’s more common for Alphas to be able to achieve it, and it’s quite common for Alphas of the Hale family to achieve it, and although Laura’s not a full Alpha, she has the Alpha spark. Stiles honestly wouldn’t be surprised if Derek had that gene, too, despite only being a Beta. There’s something about him that just screams Alpha.

“Have you got anywhere with it?” Stiles asks, already impressed for Derek even trying it. Derek smiles sheepishly.

“Well, not really…”

“He was halfway there once,” Talia tells Stiles, a proud grin on her face. “We’ve been working on it since you first got hurt.”

“ _Mom_ ,” Derek hisses, clearly embarrassed again. Talia’s grin broadens and Stiles laughs, knocking his shoulder against Derek’s.

“Tryna be my wolf in shining fur?” he teases. Derek’s cheeks tint pink, and it looks absolutely delicious on him.

“Is it working?”

Stiles grins. “Oh, absolutely.”

Derek flushes deeper and Stiles can’t help but kiss his cheek before turning back to Talia. “So that’s just another thing to keep us safe.”

“Yeah, if I can ever master it,” Derek replies.

Stiles looks at him as he says, “You will. I believe in you,” and catches Derek’s blush again, before looking back to Talia. “Do you think it would be possible?”

Talia sighs. “Well, I suppose if you have Laura and Grant there, it’ll make me feel better. But if you go, you can’t tell Jennifer where you’re going. I’m not sure if she’d be able to scry and figure your location out, but we want to make this as hard for her as possible and to keep you—all of you—as safe as possible. And you’ll have to get everyone else’s parents to agree, of course. I honestly think I’d feel better if more of you went; it’ll be easier to protect yourselves that way.” Talia straightens and fixes her blouse. “I’ll watch over everything here and make sure she doesn’t try to harm anyone here. Hopefully she’ll lay low with the attacks while you’re out of town.”

Stiles grins and throws his arms around Talia. “Thank you!” he says excitedly. The beach house might’ve been Derek’s idea, but Stiles wholeheartedly supports it. He pulls back. “But what am I going to say to her?”

“That’s for you to decide,” Talia says. “Say whatever you have to in order to stay on her good side and stay safe.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Stiles agrees. Derek steps forward and hugs his mom and kisses her cheek.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Talia smiles and squishes his cheeks between her hands before pushing him gently toward the door. “You’re welcome. Don’t make me regret it. Now go, I have work to do. I’ll talk to the others about this later tonight.”

Stiles and Derek go, heading upstairs hand in hand, already discussing their plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first and foremost, huge thank you to Nizt Ważny for the Polish translations! they gave me words and i put them in here so i hope they make sense. i seriously cannot thank you enough, you're a dear! dzięki!
> 
> remember how the thing with the nalusa chito is that it caused stiles to have horrible nightmares of his worst fears and that's why he got the moonstone in the first place? yeah, so, it also, in my story, can cause waking nightmares and that's what stiles saw y'all, derek and kate kissing wasn't real, i promise i'm not that cruel (i almost was and then i was like this is actually the worst thing i could do, so i didn't do it, you're welcome to both you and me for sparing us from the headaches and heartbreaks)
> 
> rip to parts of the hale house. it had to happen. don't worry, they fix it up like immediately and it's fine (derek's room and books are also fine, don't worry about those either)
> 
> also badass stiles? yes, please, more of that always. that's my favorite thing to write
> 
> also i didn't wanna rewrite the same scene for when stiles told derek, his parents, and then talia everything and it also felt slightly unnatural trying to put all those characters together at the time frame, so i just split them up and lazily explained that stiles told derek and his parents and talia everything so those three parties are on the same level without giving you guys the same material of stiles telling someone something and them being shocked by the news and then scolding him for being dumb. i hope that works well enough
> 
> i love derek speaking polish to stiles and all of their parents giving them a hard time. i am so unapologetic for that. and don't hate talia or the stilinskis for agreeing to let the boys go out of town/continue talking to jennifer! they have a plan, i have a plan, it'll be better than you could ever hope for and i can't wait for you guys to see it!
> 
> sorry for this long note, i have so much to say. next up with be quality pack time! <33


	24. you better not let him in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So, we’re doomed,” Boyd decides, and everyone lets out a collective sigh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is just all pack. like all of it. alternatively titled: "stiles tells the pack virtually everything they need to know after they tease him relentlessly"
> 
> chapter title comes from "werewolves of london" by warren zevon

Stiles doesn’t see anyone at school when he first gets there, and doesn’t see them as he stands at his locker, not for quite a long time. Eventually, though, they slowly show up in small groups, all saying hi and exchanging pleasantries.

Derek comes up with the Hale girls and takes a place next to Stiles, greeting him warmly, to which Stiles returns. Everyone starts discussing the dance and Stiles and Derek get pulled into the conversation, too, though neither of them are very caught up on the intricacies of the dance, minding their business until the first bell rings.

When everyone starts moving to leave for class, Stiles, completely on accident and maybe partially on instinct, turns to Derek, says, “Have a good day,” and pecks him on the mouth to say goodbye. As soon as he realizes what he’s done, he freezes. Derek’s frozen, too.

Because their friends are assholes, they immediately start up with the “ooh!”s and the “um, did he just—?”s and it makes Stiles blush furiously. He tries to rectify the situation.

“Have a good day,” he chokes out again before turning on his heel and squeezing past his friends, leaving Derek to suffer by himself, but he doesn’t really feel all that bad about it.

There goes any hope about being subtle, which they probably should be doing with Jennifer still out there and probably thinking her plan was a success, which it almost was. Oh well, they’ll have a talk about that later.

Stiles, for now, has to focus on dodging his friends.

+++

The plan pretty much works until lunch, when he’s forced to see them all at once. He’d ignored them in the classes they shared, blushing at the attention while they teased in good nature. Didn’t make it any less embarrassing, though.

He gets his tray and sits in his usual spot and waits for the teasing to commence yet again. No one really says anything though, not until Derek comes and sits down with his lunch from home, Talia’s homemade chicken nuggets again, except this time Derek has two containers. He passes one to Stiles with a shy look.

“I know how much you always talk about wanting my mom’s chicken nuggets, so I just thought that…” Derek trails off, looking sheepish. Stiles stares at him in awe.

“I didn’t know you ever listened to me talk about that,” Stiles admits.

“I always listen to you,” Derek replies, blushing. Stiles blushes, too.

“Aww, look at the happy couple! Sharing lunch all domestically!” Theo teases as she drops into her seat across from Stiles. Stiles turns to shoot her a glare.

“But how was the kiss though, Stiles?” Lydia asks, leaning in. “As good as you always imagined it?”

“I’m sure he imagines it a lot,” Jackson mutters, recoiling when Danny smacks him. Kira gives Stiles a sympathetic look.

“Oh, are you kidding? Derek actually died and went to heaven! His secret dream since he was twelve, finally coming true!” Erica exclaims, Isaac and Malia snickering. Even Boyd quietly laughs.

“Guys, come on,” Scott tries to plead, Allison making a similar plea right after him.

“Yeah, but did you see the look on both their faces? That was priceless,” Cora says, ignoring them both and grinning widely.

“Shut up!” Stiles hisses, embarrassment flooding his cheeks.

“Aww, is wittle Stiles getting embawassed?” Erica mocks with a grin. “You’re the one who macked on Derek in a hallway full of witnesses!”

He really hates his friends sometimes.

“He said stop,” Derek growls deeply, a little too wolfy for the middle of the cafeteria, but that happens to be Derek’s M.O.

And it works. Erica snaps her mouth shut and the other wolves turn their heads, Lydia raising an eyebrow before making a disinterested face and turning back to her lunch. Kira and Scott give Stiles simultaneously looks of sympathy and pity that Stiles shakes his head at, dismissing them and confirming everything’s fine.

He exhales and decides to turn his attention back to his chicken nuggets, pressing his leg against Derek’s as a silent thank you. Derek presses back and they say nothing else on the matter.

+++

Derek invites all their friends over to his house after school and lacrosse and gathers them in the study. The plan is to stop leaving people in the dark, and it’s time to bring their friends in on it all.

Derek is really the first person he told about Jennifer, excluding Deaton and Chris because he kind of had to tell them, and Peter, who seems to always know everything. But the Jennifer thing is a huge revelation that might mean finally putting an end to all the bad shit that’s happening, and the people who deserve to know most are those who were wrongly affected by it the most, which Stiles feels like is his friends who got bit and those who got attacked. They were minding their own business when the Alpha and shadow came for them, and it came for _them_ , not Stiles, as Chris Argent has theorized, so it’s important that they’re all in the loop.

“So, you all know what’s been happening,” Stiles says with a clap of his hands, leaning back against the desk and facing the room. They’re all scattered throughout the study, looking at him with varying shades of intrigue and thankfully not saying anything about this morning. Derek stands to the right of him and back some, leaning his hip against the side of the desk as Stiles speaks. “Well, more shit has happened.”

“Someone else got bit?” Allison asks, concern in her eyes. Stiles shakes his head.

“No, no, I haven’t seen the Alpha since we all saw it two weeks ago,” Stiles dismisses, waving a hand. “No, I’m talking about Jennifer, Kali’s Emissary. Do you guys remember me talking about her? Did I mention her?”

“You briefly said that the Alphas have Emissaries, but you didn’t really talk about them,” Scott tells him helpfully.

By this point, Stiles knows, he has pretty much everybody caught up on everything that’s happened after that first talk with Talia in the family room and then Stiles further explaining everything the Tuesday after, though Lydia wasn’t present. But he personally caught her up via a couple hour chat, that Wednesday night after everyone was bit, over some coffee at her house, so she should be on the same page as everyone else as well. Jackson and Isaac weren’t there for that initial conversation with Talia either, but Stiles knows that Danny caught up Jackson while Erica and Boyd talked to Isaac.

But he could’ve left out things that seemingly weren’t too important at the time, like the Emissaries, which have become important now in the future. So he needs to figure out exactly what they know and what they need to know.

“Okay, great. Well, remember our Alphas? Deucalion’s got Marin Morrell, Deaton’s sister. Ennis has got this dude named Marcus no has, like, seen or heard from, Satomi’s got this girl Alya who we’re kinda iffy about, probably need to talk to her again, and Kali’s got Jennifer. Now, Jennifer’s our main suspect here. I started training with her for my spark—”

“Why?” Lydia asks, tilting her head slightly. “Weren’t you training with your mom and Deaton?”

Stiles makes a noise. “Ehhh, yes, technically, but I wasn’t making any progress with either of them, like I couldn’t really do any defensive or offensive magic, and there was a ridiculous amount of breathing exercises that went into it all and I just didn’t—”

“That’s not the point,” Derek reminds from behind him. Stiles point a finger loosely over his shoulder.

“Right, no, exactly. The point is that I started training with Jennifer and it was going great because she was teaching me things and whatever and I was doing it. But then she was saying things about Derek and being weird with, like, quotes about my spark and stuff and got all worked up about Talia being the Great Alpha.”

“What’d she say about Derek?” Theo asks at the same time Cora demands, “What did she say about my mom?”

Stiles waves his hand again. “What she said about Derek doesn’t matter right now, but she was basically acting like Talia is a tyrant and needs to be overthrown, which I think is a touch peculiar.”

Cora growls lowly and Stiles sees Lydia’s hand twitch minutely like she wants to reach out and comfort her.

“And why aren’t we ripping that bitch’s head off?”

“Because all she’s done is say stuff,” Derek replies. “I’m just as angry as you, but going and trying to accuse her of whatever we try to accuse her of will do no good if she’s the person who actually caused all this. Not to mention that if she isn’t the right person, then we have a whole new set of problems on our hands.”

“We have to tread carefully,” Stiles adds. “Jennifer has been talking bad about Talia, but that’s not all that she’s done. I’m pretty sure she’s the one who conjured the nalusa chito. She took me to this Nemeton in the Preserve and told me about how it’s this big conduit for supernatural energy, basically, and how it, if powered up properly, could level Beacon Hills or worse. Well, she didn’t actually tell me any of that, I had to figure it out for myself, but I think she’s planning on sacrificing me to charge the Nemeton.”

“ _What_?!”

“Wait, like _sacrifice_? Like _human sacrifice_?”

“What, are we living in medieval times?”

“Why would she want to sacrifice Stilinski? What’s he gonna do?”

Everyone’s voices lap over each other—and Stiles hears Jackson’s insult at the end and ignores it, but sends him a glare—as they start discussing ritual human sacrifice and if that’s a thing still and why the hell is it happening now?

“Okay, everyone shut up!” Stiles doesn’t even raise his voice that high, but it rings out over the room like he yelled, which, huh, that might be a magic thing. The room falls silent as everyone turns their attention to Stiles. “Yes, human sacrifice, because she thinks she’s some ancient druid who still does that shit and yes, me, because I’m an incredibly powerful spark.” Stiles pauses. “Or, I would be if I could figure out how to use it properly.”

“Well, we’re doomed,” Jackson announces in a dull tone and Danny slaps his arm.

“Not doomed,” Stiles says, “because when I was training with her, I was actually learning stuff and, like, I can do quite a lot of stuff now.”

“So you can stop her?” Scott asks excitedly.

“Well—”

“Rend her unconscious?” Erica asks with a lifted hand.

“Um, not necessarily—”

“Hit her with a magical attack?” Isaac asks hopefully.

“Er, not really.”

“So, we’re doomed,” Boyd decides, and everyone lets out a collective sigh.

“No, no, no! Because—I can make fire—Derek saw that—and, um, wind, and I can create potions and stuff, Well, we’ve only done healing remedies, and protection sigils and stuff like that, but I do know stuff!”

“Yeah, but she’s your teacher, which means whatever you know, she knows better and more about,” Malia points out.

Kira winces. “Um, are you sure this is a good idea, Stiles? Any of this? She clearly is more advanced and skilled than you, not to be rude, but if you tried to face her or anything—”

“I’m not gonna face her, at least not yet,” Stiles promises. “I’m just telling you guys about her and what she’s done and proposing that we try to find a solution or way to stop her. I haven’t even told you the best part!”

“Literally, any part could be better than you telling us a murderous witch is trying to kill everyone and sacrifice you to power a tree that could kill tens of thousands easily,” Lydia says while inspecting her baby pink nails.

“Okay, well, actually, this part isn’t better at all, it’s kinda worse.” More groans. “We suspect, but we’re not sure that Jennifer could also be working with the Alpha. If that’s the case, we think the Alpha that bit you guys is Kali. And there’s a good chance she’ll call to you the next full moon.”

“Wait, what? Why would she call? Why the next full moon? Why didn’t she call for the last one then?” Scott asks in rapid succession.

Stiles glances at Derek who doesn’t really give him any help, so he turns back to Scott. “In truth, we don’t really know. We don’t know why she waited or if it was intentional or what, considering this past full moon went off rather well, from what I heard, or rather, didn’t hear. But we think she’ll come back. There was a reason she bit you guys specifically.”

“But she didn’t even turn me,” Lydia protests.

“But the bite activated your banshee powers, didn’t it?” Cora says. Lydia glares at her briefly before nodding. “Maybe that was her intention.”

Huh, Stiles didn’t think about that. Maybe she _was_ trying to activate Lydia’s powers, but why? That still doesn’t make perfect sense. He feels like he’s missing something, he _knows_ he’s missing something, he just can’t figure out what. Is it sitting right in front of his eyes, too? Like the Jennifer thing and how he ignored everyone’s warnings about her, Derek and Alya’s, at least. Maybe he needs a different perspective.

And, he realizes, he’s forgetting something else.

“Oh, and a big thing that we never really talked about when it happened and then spring break came up so we didn’t see them and I didn’t see them yesterday or today either, which is suspicious… But don’t trust Aiden and Ethan,” Stiles tells the group.

“What, why?” Scott asks before conceding. “I mean, other than the fact they weren’t cool to you at lunch Thursday before break.”

“Well, that’s only part of it. The other part is that they’re Alpha twins, which are apparently very rare, and they’re a part of Deucalion’s pack. And Deucalion is no bueno, like at all. We need to be wary of them, is all.”

“So just be wary of everyone then?” Isaac asks.

Stiles nods. “Pretty much. Oh, and the trial is coming up, where they decide Satomi’s fate, so that’s gonna be a whole thing.”

“Is there a set date?” Erica asks, looking up from where she’s been cleaning her claws.

“Deucalion just keeps saying soon,” Stiles says with a shake of his head.

“This Friday, he said,” Kira adds, swaying forward slightly on the balls of her feet. “He originally was waiting for the second full moon, I heard, but no one knows why, and they don’t know why he suddenly moved it up either. Everyone’s just guessing he’s impatient, but maybe there’s a reason he did move it up.”

“Maybe he knows what Kali and Jennifer are planning for the full moon and is letting them work,” Scott suggests.

“But why do that? Why let them do whatever they’re going to do? Isn’t he in competition with them?” Allison asks.

“Maybe that’s exactly it. They’re in competition and he’s trying to win, trying to get to checkmate before they can,” Stiles wonders aloud. “Zwischenzug.”

“Gesundheit,” Theo says helpfully, with a too polite smile. Stiles glares at her.

“ _Zwischenzug_ ,” Stiles repeats, slower. “It’s a chess tactic when your opponent, instead of making the expected move, makes a move that poses an immediate threat that you must first answer, before then playing the expected move.”

“And how is that helpful?” Cora asks with a raised eyebrow and a bored expression.

“They’re playing a match,” Stiles says. When no one makes an understanding face, Stiles continues. “Ugh. Seriously? Okay, so Kali and Jennifer are against Deucalion in a bid for power, only Kali’s got to stay silent because Deucalion can’t know she’s the one behind all this. So they all come here and start the game and Jennifer starts by unleashing the nalusa chito. Deucalion may make a small behind-the-scenes move, telling Aiden and Ethan to come down on a certain date or something. Then Kali bites Scott, forcing Deucalion to answer to that move, which he does, by accusing Satomi. Then Kali and Jennifer respond accordingly by stepping off and supporting Deucalion. Then Deucalion cruises on his victory before Jennifer and Kali come back and have Kali bite the three of you—” Stiles gestures to Jackson, Isaac, and Lydia “—and Deucalion responds by bringing the Alpha twins down here. Jennifer steps it up by starting spark training and Deucalion gets fed up with the game and decides the trial must happen immediately.”

“But how does Deucalion know about the spark training?” Isaac asks.

“And why does Deucalion want Satomi accused? Or, better yet, why do Jennifer and Kali want Satomi accused? What do they stand to gain from that? I mean, how is taking out Satomi going to help them take over the Five Packs?” Kira points out.

Stiles sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know. Look, it’s not the most perfect theory, but it’s what we got right now until we can refine it.”

“What if it’s not Jennifer and Kali versus Deucalion?” Lydia brings up. “What if it’s you versus whoever is your opponent?”

“Huh,” Stiles exhales. “Peter said something like that to me once.”

He supposes that does make more sense as a theory. But what would be the theory there? He and whoever is his opponent, let’s say the magic user and the Alpha, are on the board. His opponent attacks him with the nalusa chito and he moves to alert the pack, therefore putting him in protective detail. His opponent continues to plague him with nightmares as his magic grows in response to the danger, until his window cracks and he brings Scott out into the woods. Then his opponent attacks him with the Alpha, forcing him to answer that move by seeking help with the Hales and therefore discovering his spark. This goes well as the opponent leaves him alone, playing the expected move, which Stiles answers by acting as if everything is normal, until that Sunday he and the pack are attacked, again forcing him to answer to that move by sending the nalusa chito away. Then there’s virtual silence until he starts practicing with Jennifer, which goes fine expect everything’s a bit weird. There’s also Kate and Derek kissing, or rather not kissing, which could be considered a twisted power move by his opponent, one he again is forced to answer by responding to it and subsequently fighting off the nalusa chito, though none of his opponents, hopefully, know that. And there hasn’t been a real incident since, granted that was only a handful of days ago.

He feels a bit like he’s cramming puzzle pieces into places they clearly don’t belong, but he’s not sure how else to get this done.

This was done by someone experienced, this whole plan laid out carefully and with great thought, not a piece out of place. Everything has been thought of and planned for, and no matter how many times they continually surprise Stiles, he has yet to surprise them.

Well, not for long.

“Whoever the opponent is, they’ve planned this meticulously. They’ve known every move I’m going to make and know how to get what they want from me. They wanted Scott and Jackson and Lydia bit. But you know who they didn’t want bit? Isaac.” Stiles turns to Isaac, whose eyes widen a bit at the attention. “You were an accident, the Alpha didn’t mean to bite you. You were just in the way.”

“Gee, thanks,” Isaac mumbles. Scott kindly pats him on the shoulder.

“No, that’s a good thing. That means that they Alpha made a mistake and we’ve already established that they don’t make mistakes. So why make this one?”

“Like you said, Isaac was in the way,” Erica says, gesturing to Isaac, who shrinks under the scrutiny.

“Yeah, but why wouldn’t the Alpha have been able to see him? The clearing was all lit up because of the fire and I could see you guys just fine with my human eyes, so with Alpha eyesight? They should’ve been able to see you perfectly, Jackson, because they were coming after you, but they ran into Isaac and _bit him_ before they realized he was the wrong target. So why?”

“Maybe there was something wrong with their senses,” Jackson suggests.

“Or maybe the fire disoriented them,” Allison perks up.

“Or maybe the magic user messed with them,” Danny says. “Maybe it wasn’t Jennifer’s Alpha out there that night. That, or it was a different magic user. But those two, I don’t think they got along.”

Maybe a different Alpha entirely. Like Deucalion. He is blind, after all, he’d be perfect. But what if it was more than blindness, like the others are suggesting? Like there was something else affecting it. Because what if he can actually see as a werewolf? Stiles holds onto the Deucalion theory, though, puts it in his back pocket.

“The shadow did only show up at the end, like right before the Alpha left,” Malia agrees.

“Maybe they were working against each other,” Derek murmurs, still behind Stiles. Stiles turns to look at him.

“You think it was a different Alpha who bit Lydia, Jackson, and Isaac? Because if that’s the case—”

“There’ll be two competing bids for our friends during the full moon. They could be trying to tear the group apart.”

“That’s fucked up,” Stiles says lowly, leaning into Derek’s space, this time mostly unintentionally.

“Hi, so are we gonna talk about this?” Theo asks, pointing between him and Derek when Stiles turns his head to look at her.

“Wha—”

“Yeah, what’s going on with you guys?” Cora asks, the corner of her mouth pulling up.

“Are you together or what?” Erica demands, growing more excited the longer they stay on the topic.

Stiles looks back at Derek who stares back at him, eyes slightly wide. But the answer is easy, a little unexpected for them to have to blurt it out, but Stiles doesn’t mind. When it’s clear that Derek is waiting for his cue, he turns back to his friends and says, “We’re dating,” simply because it is.

He waits for someone to say something, feels Derek press closer to him.

“We know,” Lydia says, arms crossed over her chest and looking very pleased with herself.

Cora, Erica, and Theo break first naturally, cheering and congratulating them, coming over to give them both hugs and what could be construed as violently happy pats on the back or arm. Lydia smiles a genuine smile at him and Allison, Scott, and Kira come over to give their congratulations, too, everyone else passing on their well wishes as well, Jackson a bit reluctantly, but Danny gets him to say it.

Everyone starts asking how long they’ve been together and when did they know and have you been dating all this time that’s a long time to have been dating.

Stiles looks back to Derek, who’s smiling softly and is looking only at Stiles with a gentle expression on his face, and Stiles can’t help but reach out and grab his hand and hold it as he turns back to answer questions.

(“We only got together recently, the past couple of days or so” and “I don’t know, um, I guess we just figured it out together recently” and “No, we haven’t been dating this whole time, but I hope we date for at least a little while longer”)

Their friends don’t seem satiated with all the answers and try to pester them more, but Stiles calls an end to the meeting and the questions, saying they’ll pick this up another time.

In the meantime, Derek invites them upstairs to the game room so they can all gather together on the couches and floor, stretched out and almost all touching in some way or another, Stiles and Derek sitting at the center of it all. They watch one of the Fast and Furious movies, but Stiles genuinely doesn’t know which one and can’t bring himself to care (though he does root for Michelle Rodriguez throughout the movie). Pretty much everyone shows an interest in the movie and are all laughing and joking around trying to put themselves in the characters’ positions and whatnot, declaring who everyone is (“No, Derek is Dom and Stiles is Letty and no one can change my mind” which Stiles accepts because, again, Michelle Rodriguez) and snickering when someone makes a comparison that’s too close to home (“If Derek is Dom, then Scott is Brian. There’s tension at first and then Derek corrupts him and they’re best friends, I can see it now”).

Stiles thinks about what they’ve all been through and how far they’ve come, the bites and the terror and the grief, and yet not one of them panicked, not really. They all held their ground and kept their heads on and they survived, all of them, got out with their lives and their spirits intact. As far as he knows, there’s been minimal psychological scarring and they’re all still here and he has to keep reminding himself of that because he’s so grateful for it.

He’s grateful for Derek, too. What they’ve been able to build, what they have left to make. He knows what lies behind them and is excited for what lies ahead, knows that Derek actually wants him, that this isn’t some pipe dream, and he’s not gonna let anyone or anything tarnish it, and he’s gonna work as hard as he can to make it what he knows it could be, should be.

He knows that Derek will do the same. He can’t wait for Derek to do the same every day for the rest of their lives.

And for now, he curls up against Derek’s side, even though Derek is a little stiff, probably from being around other people while being cuddly, and pulls a blanket over the top of them, moving Derek’s arm so that it’s around Stiles’ shoulders. He murmurs, “Relax,” against Derek’s ear, which makes him shiver but relax so that he’s more pliant and loose. Stiles calls it a win and snuggles against him, allowing himself to get lost in the feeling of pack and family.

+++

Before everyone leaves, Stiles tells them about the idea to get out of town for the weekend. It’s pretty short notice, but they all seem excited by the idea.

“Yes, the Hale beach house is the best,” Erica cheers.

“I think I can probably convince Mom and Dr. Deaton to let me go,” Scott says. “Especially if I mention it’s for pack bonding.”

“We can lie to your dad, Allison, say it’s a girl’s weekend,” Lydia tells Allison, who smiles brightly, wrapping an arm around Lydia.

“Perfect!”

“I’m not sure I’ll be able to go…” Isaac says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“We’ll tell your dad it’s a lacrosse trip,” Derek offers, patting Isaac gently on the back. “He likes me, I’ll tell him, if that makes it easier.”

Isaac smiles at Derek, the tiniest bit unsure before it grows into something more confident and relaxed. “It does. Thank you.”

“Road trip!” Theo yells and everyone laughs, already hatching plans to go and try to figure out what they all need to bring.

Stiles smiles and watches them all talk animatedly about what they’re going to do, the feeling of a pack bond strengthening spreading through him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was just pack heavy my dudes. not very long and it's kinda hard writing scenes with like 10+ people and then making sure they all get appropriate speaking lines, but i think it worked out okay
> 
> also, i feel like i should mention that isaac acts like pre-bite isaac a lot because in this story he is newly bitten and hasn't fully gotten his confidence yet, and also his dad is alive so that doesn't help his confidence very much. but i have a headcanon that (first of all, his dad is a piece of shit so lemme just say that) but that his dad would like derek because he thinks derek is like everything a young man should be and whatever and so he lets derek "mold" his son and lets them hang out because he trusts derek
> 
> sorry if this got hard to follow with the zwischenzug/chess thing. it's not unimportant, but for this chapter it's not like too crazily important so it's alright if you were like ??? what the fuck is happening?
> 
> lastly, i am currently writing chapter 30 and we are coming to the end folks. i'm not done with the story yet because there's still some plot things to do and some fluff things i wanna do, but we are definitely getting there and it is terrifying. this story ended up being WAAAAYYYY longer than i ever anticipated, like my original outline has (currently) 9 chapters (and the revised one is currently up to 14) so this turned into a beast. that being said, it is not only the longest thing i've ever written in my entire life, but it is also something i poured the most heart and soul into and am crazy proud of both it and myself for making it this far. i am also very grateful to y'all for sticking around through this and reading every chapter and all the comments and kudos, it all means the universe to me. thank you very much!! <333


	25. like the prodigal son

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles smacks his lips together and says, “So when’s the first time you knew you liked me?”
> 
> Derek blushes immediately and gets a shy look on his face.
> 
> “Oh, um,” he laughs awkwardly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “That’s kind of a difficult answer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no warnings except i've never eaten/cut up a pineapple before and i'm afraid it shows and i talk about dceu/mcu, specifically about terrible things magneto has done but like i can't tell you what issues they're from so spoilers? potentially, i'm sorry, it's very brief
> 
> oh, also, this is the third installment of "talking to everybody and getting our shit together" feat. peter, so there's that to look forward to
> 
> chapter title from "left hand free" by alt-j

The next day, Stiles heads over to greet his friends, who’ve taken to standing outside again and meeting by the front in the mornings. He and Scott do their handshake that they still haven’t perfected, despite years of working on it (and, honestly, it seems like Scott’s just gotten worse at the handshake since becoming a lupine lacrosse demigod, which is just like the bowling thing (and the bowling thing is the same for Derek, so maybe that’s just genuinely a skill thing) but maybe Scott’s a defective werewolf). Stiles snorts and shoves Scott away playfully, who just laughs in response and goes to put his arm around Allison and see what kind of conversation she’s having.

Stiles does the customary greetings with hugs and “hey”s and whatnot before he gets to Derek, who’s standing on his lonesome like usual, electively not talking to anyone so no one is really speaking back, not ignoring him because they would never, but just giving him his own space because they know he typically prefers it that way.

But Stiles has never been one to let sleeping dogs lie (pun intended, though it probably would’ve worked better had Derek been lying down). He steps into Derek’s space and presses the side of his body against Derek’s side with purpose. Derek stares down at him with slightly widened eyes for a moment before lifting his arm and wrapping it around Stiles’ shoulder, pulling him close. Stiles hums and wraps his arm around Derek’s back, pulling him forward into the conversation and standing next to Scott and Allison. Everyone greets them warmly and includes them in their discussion on the proper way to cut and eat pineapple.

“You cut it vertically and then dice it from there,” Jackson says haughtily. There are several outraged cries.

“You what?!”

“Then how would you pick it up?”

“That’s the right way!” Jackson protests.

Lydia rolls her eyes. “You cut diagonals, so you can grab the edges of the outer skin and therefore have something to hold without getting juice all over yourself.”

Jackson now rolls his eyes. “That sounds ridiculous.”

“You’re just upset you never thought of that,” Cora sneers at him, leaning toward Lydia, who smiles at the backup.

Jackson scoffs indignantly and proceeds to launch into a totally wrong spiel about how he clearly knows the proper way to eat pineapples and other fruits and vegetables, knowledge that the others might not be privy to.

They all laugh at the absurdity of his statements and start heckling him, which he takes while pouting, but pouting is like his own weird form of smiling, especially when it comes to posturing in front of the pack, so they ignore it, smiling and laughing even more when he brings up a particularly ridiculous point.

Stiles glances up at Derek, who’s smiling brightly and it looks just like the same happy smiles he gives the Hale pack or his family when they’re all together. Stiles feels his heart pull and can’t help but reaching up and kissing Derek’s cheek gently.

Derek only glances down at him, his smile slightly bigger than before, and Stiles feels his heart pull, the bond bright between them.

He turns back to his friends, feeling better than before.

+++

Derek and Stiles sequester themselves in Derek’s room without much trouble. When they got to his house, Talia was home early, as she’s been with the Five Packs in town, and greeted them, asking if they’d like a snack or anything. Derek and Stiles had been in the middle of arguing about why the DCEU has better villains but the MCU has better superheroes, which mostly means they were arguing the same point, just with different examples and louder, in Stiles’ case.

They make their way up to Derek’s room after declining snacks, Stiles in the middle of a ramble.

“—and don’t even get me started on the Riddler! One of the best villains hands down! I mean, riddles, man… That’s _so cool_!” He exclaims as he pushes open the door to Derek’s room. It’s still a little nerve-wracking, pushing open the door to Derek’s room, because he still has this wave of anxiety thinking he’s gonna see Derek and Kate again, but he pushes it down and pretends that everything’s fine because if he even slightly freaks out, Derek will probably completely freak out and think it’s deeper than it is and then that’ll be good for nobody.

Derek chuckles as he comes in right after, apparently not noticing that Stiles had the smallest of freak outs, or is choosing to ignore it at this time, which is probably the case, in order to not freak Stiles out more. “He is pretty cool. Underrated, I think.”

“Oh, for sure,” Stiles says, dropping his backpack by Derek’s bed and taking a seat on the edge. “He doesn’t get as much hype as the Joker or, you know, like Magneto.”

“Magneto’s basically an anti-hero, though, kinda like Deadpool. I wouldn’t classify either of them as full villains, even if they occasionally do villainous things.”

“Okay, first of all, never compare Deadpool to Magneto. Deadpool is much better than Magneto. Some of his issues were dark, man. Remember when he killed Quicksilver? His own flesh and blood, dude.”

Derek drops his backpack by his desk and nods. “Yeah, that was pretty messed up. But he also tried to fight Red Skull, remember, and he protected the mutants.”

“He was a fanatic most of the time. Red Skull was a pretty good villain.”

“Sure, but you have to be more than just a good villain.”

“That’s true. Besides, I feel like DCEU created villains with character, I mean specifically regarding the Gotham villains, they had real character and stage presence. They really jumped out of the page and came to life.”

“You’re saying that because you’re partial to Batman.”

Stiles laughs and shakes his head. “No, I’m not! I mean, I’m partial to Spider-Man, too, if you haven’t noticed.”

“Yes, and Deadpool and Iron Man, because you’re an odd combination of all three, and you’ve sung their praises as well. You spent a good ten minutes alone talking about both Doc Ock and Venom. Separately.”

“And Green Goblin,” Stiles sighs dreamily, mostly to tease Derek.

Derek just laughs and says, “Yeah,” and finally takes a seat next to Stiles. He’s not hesitant when it’s just the two of them, has no qualms about pressing his leg against Stiles’.

Stiles leans back on his hands and Derek stays facing forward, an easy silence now settling over them. Stiles smacks his lips together and says, “So when’s the first time you knew you liked me?”

He doesn’t really have better material than that, and it sort of does its job because Derek blushes immediately and gets a shy look on his face.

“Oh, um,” he laughs awkwardly, reaching up to rub the back of his neck. “That’s kind of a difficult answer.”

“Why’s that?” Stiles asks, leaning all the way back on his elbows. Derek’s turned now so Stiles can still see half of his face, enough to gauge his expressions at least.

“Well…” Derek sighs and lays back on the bed, face turned toward the ceilings and blush still on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “I guess it’s been a long time coming. I really didn’t understand exactly what I was feeling until late in the game.”

“How late in the game?” Stiles asks, mirroring Derek so he lays flat on his back as well, still looking at him.

“Maybe when I was twelve?”

Stiles props himself up on his elbow and doesn’t bother hiding his surprise. “You’ve known since you were twelve and you never did anything about it?”

Derek winces, his expression pulling together in clear discomfort. “I was not great at handling my emotions or feelings and I told you, I thought if I ignored them, they would go away. Not the case, obviously, but we figured that out.” Derek pauses, pursing his lips before looking over at Stiles. “I’m sorry that I—”

“I know,” Stiles cuts him off. “And I appreciate the apologies and we’re both sorry for various things and we both understand how the other feels now, so let’s leave it there for now, okay?”

Derek nods solemnly, still seemingly unable to wipe that guilty expression off his face. But he concedes and turns back to the ceiling.

“When I was younger, it just felt like we were friends. I mean, I know I was bad at showing that, but you really were my closest friend, always have been, closer than Boyd or Erica or Isaac. Maybe that’s just because we grew up together or because the bond means we’re naturally predisposed to understand each other in ways that other people can’t, but you always meant more to me than anyone else. I didn’t understand the gravity of that until I was about twelve and I started to really notice you.”

Derek pauses and glances briefly at Stiles.

“I feel like I’m talking too much,” he admits. Stiles shakes his head, his hand coming up to play with Derek’s shirtsleeve.

“I like hearing you talk,” Stiles says softly, softer than he means to, and it makes Derek’s gaze soften as he stares at Stiles.

“Okay,” he says, just as softly, before looking away once more. Stiles thinks that it’s probably easier for him to talk so openly when he’s not looking directly at Stiles, most likely due to his struggles with his feelings and emotions and what lingering guilt he still has (guilt over suppressing his feelings or maybe over the Kate thing, Stiles isn’t sure). But Stiles doesn’t mind. He hopes Derek will eventually be able to look at him while he talks about things like this, but he understands why Derek is feeling so nervous, as he can feel through the bond, and won’t push him. That won’t help anything.

“I guess I just stared to pay more and more attention to you until you were, well, a lot of what I thought about. But I was scared to talk to you so I didn’t. The feelings just got more intense as time went on and well, you know the rest.” Derek pauses again and then shrugs. “So I don’t really have an answer because there wasn’t a distinct moment. It just kind of… Happened.”

Stiles thinks that’s a good way to word it and hums, smiling to himself.

Then Derek says, “When did you first like me?”

Stiles laughs because he can’t help it and meets Derek’s eyes, who’s now looking at him and waiting patiently.

Stiles shrugs. “I mean, I don’t know if there was ever a time when I didn’t like you. Like, six is probably my earliest memory of liking you, like _liking you_ liking you, and ever since then I haven’t not liked you. I mean, you kind of taught me what it meant to really care for somebody. So, I don’t know, this whole time, basically. I always knew you were my mate.”

Derek gets this soft expression on his face and reaches out to touch Stiles’ cheek.

“How’d I get so lucky to have someone like you as my mate?”

The words “my mate” make Stiles hot all over because he’s pretty sure this is one of the first real times that Derek has said those words and meant it, meant that Stiles was his as much as Derek was Stiles’. It thrills him to hear it.

The rest of the sentence processes a second later and Stiles can’t help the blush that takes over him. He rolls over and practically on top of Derek, but Derek welcomes him and wraps his arms around his waist.

“I’m the lucky one,” Stiles murmurs. Derek’s face softens and Stiles leans down and kisses his slowly and languidly, taking all the time in the world.

+++

It’s nearing night when Stiles brings up Peter, who was the last item on Stiles’ checklist, after dealing with Jennifer, who he hasn’t exactly dealt with, and talking with Derek, which he thinks they’ve accomplished at this point. Except he still has to catch Derek up on everything with Peter, because he still hasn’t told him that.

“So, Peter and I talked. Well, multiple times,” Stiles says, laying back on Derek’s bed. Derek’s sitting up doing his homework still. He glances over at Stiles, unconcerned.

“Oh? What about?” It’s not at all uncommon for Peter and Stiles to talk, hence why Derek’s acting so nonchalant. Stiles pauses for a moment before responding.

“A lot of things. We talked about the Alphas and what Peter knows and a lot of quotes, like an absurd amount, and double meanings, I think, but I’ve figured some of it out and I thought I should tell you. I met him in the woods once upon a time and he gave me a lot of information. Remember when I told you about zwischenzug?”

“You met with Peter in the woods? Alone? _Recently_? When did you do this?” Derek looks over at him.

Stiles waves a hand. “Remember when you said I smelled like Peter that one time and I got mad at you?”

Derek groans. “Stiles—”

“Before you go on about my protection, Peter is an Alpha,” Stiles points out.

“You still shouldn’t be—” Derek pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “Just—continue, please.”

“Peter taught me zwischenzug, and zugzwang, for that matter. He proposed that me and my opponent, though he wouldn’t tell me who he thought that was, are in the middle of zwischenzug. They threw me a new threat by introducing the Alpha werewolf, to which I’ve been forced to answer, even if it puts me in zugzwang, which I have and it has. He said that my opponent would come for my queen soon, after eliminating my pawns, who I assume are our friends.”

“So who’s the queen?” Derek asks, turning towards him properly.

“I’m not sure. My most valuable player, I’m guessing?”

“Yourself?” Derek proposes. Stiles contemplates this.

“Yeah, maybe. That would make sense I suppose, if it was my game after all.”

“Then who’s your king? That’d be your next important piece, especially in the endgame.”

“You,” Stiles answers without hesitation. Derek flushes a little and Stiles rolls his eyes, a smile slipping onto his face. “Well, obviously, it’s you.”

“What else did Peter say?”

“Well, a stunning amount of Macbeth quotes, honestly, and a lot of references to games, like poker and chess.”

“Games all about knowing your opponent and knowing how to play the game,” Derek notes. Stiles nods.

“He said each of the Alphas was a different kind of poker player, but only talked about the twins, Deucalion, Kali, and Ennis. He didn’t at all mention Satomi or your mom.”

“Because neither of them are playing or because they aren’t threats?”

“Presumably both, but if they are playing, it’s against their will, which seems to fit with Satomi being forced to a bogus trial and your mom trying to save everyone. It’s almost like they’re being distracted.”

Derek hums as he thinks it over. Stiles sits up properly.

“You know, he said something else, a quote from the Bible. ‘Beware of false prophets. They come to you in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly they are ravenous wolves.’ I thought at the time he meant one of the Alphas, but now I’m sure he meant Jennifer. Kind of too late now, but he must’ve known about her this whole time, or at least had suspicions.”

“You know Macbeth is all about deception and false faces. Maybe that’s why he quotes it so much.”

“This has all been one big game of deception, even from Peter’s end. I mean, did you hear that he apparently was the only person to hear the sound barrier breaking when we were attacked by the Alpha werewolf and the shadow? And all the knowledge he has…”

“You don’t think Peter would—”

“No,” Stiles dismisses the thought immediately, shaking his head. “He wouldn’t. He’s not like that. The guy he used to be after his wife died, he’s not that man anymore. But it is odd that he knows stuff, but won’t interfere. Like that Alya girl.”

“What? The Emissary?”

Stiles sighs. “She told me once upon a time to watch out for Jennifer, which I didn’t listen to, and said that Ennis, Kali, and Deucalion are incompetent and Satomi is innocent. But she was so scared, even Deucalion commented that she’s mousy. I just wonder if she has this knowledge, why isn’t she doing anything about it?”

“Maybe they’re intimidating her in some way. I doubt Peter could be intimidated like that, but surely he has just a good reason as to keep his distance.”

“Do you think the Emissaries are in trouble? Any of them, I mean.”

Derek makes a contemplative face. “Well, not Jennifer, but Alya, maybe Ennis’ Emissary, Marcus. I don’t know about Deaton’s sister, but I feel like she’s someone who can’t be intimidated. Still, maybe we should reach out to all of them and see if there’s issues.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Stiles agrees. “Any way we can help.”

Derek nods. “Is there anything else important?”

Stiles shakes his head and scoots closer to Derek on the bed, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Hmm, just a lot more quotes, references, to Dutch-Netherlandish painters, and Peter continually warning me about Jennifer and me not listening, but I think that’s it for now. I’ll let you know if I remember or realize anything else far later than would’ve been helpful.”

“Everything is helpful,” Derek says, turning his head and bumping his forehead against Stiles’.

“Mmm, I like when you’re the optimistic one.”

“It’s a new thing I’m trying,” Derek teases and Stiles laughs, leaning forward to kiss him.

“Well, it’s a great look on you.”

“Duly noted,” Derek says as he deepens the kiss. Stiles can’t fight off his smile, which makes kissing hard, especially when Derek is smiling back.

+++

Later that night, when it’s getting late and Stiles should be leaving soon, he’s up in Derek’s room, reorganizing his bookshelf while Derek works on some homework. He’s humming softly under his breath when he picks a book up and smiles at the cover of Macbeth, thumbing through the pages to see the conversations he and Derek wrote inside.

He comes to a random page and reads an underlined quote aloud, “‘False face must hide what false heart doth know.’”

He pauses. He knows that quote. He knows that quote not because he knows it from Macbeth, though he does, but because he knows it from when Peter said it to him way back when, when Talia had interviewed the Emissaries and Peter had asked to talk to Stiles privately, where he spouted more riddles at him, including that one from the Bible about the wolf in sheep’s clothing and the name of that painting about the hills having eyes and the trees having ears or whatever.

Stiles grabs the book and says, “That dick!”, fed up with the not knowing, and hurries out of the room, Derek calling after him. It doesn’t take long for Derek to come after him, just as Stiles is bursting into the library where he spots Peter playing himself in chess.

“You knew this whole time!” Stiles accuses, holding up the book. “From the beginning, you knew!”

“Good evening, Stiles. Rather late for the theatrics, isn’t it?” Peter greets, not looking up from his game. Stiles scoffs.

“Don’t even start with me. All those quotes, everything from the beginning that you’ve been saying and trying to tell me… It started at the beginning. You started that night when you got home, didn’t you? Talking about magic behind the curtain and the darkness and five aces. You literally meant magic, someone using magic behind the scenes, and a literal darkness like the shadow, and five aces, that’s the five Alphas!”

Peter glances up at him now with slightly wide eyes. “My, that’s quite a big claim.”

Stiles narrows his eyes and points his finger at Peter.

“‘Never know what you’re going to see in the dark,’” Stiles quotes, thankful he wrote this down forever ago. “‘Everything else is a mirage, an illusion, distracting you from the big trick, the magic behind the curtain.’ That’s what you said. I saw the shadow in the dark and Jennifer, everything she’s thrown out, the shadow, the illusions, the kind façade she had, it’s all been a distraction from the real magic she’s been cooking up. How have you known this whole time?”

Peter smiles kindly at him and shakes his head. “I assure you, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Stiles storms over and slams his hands down on the chess table, upsetting the pieces. Derek tries to call his name, but Stiles ignores him.

“People got hurt, Peter. Innocent people, my _friends_.”

“Only the people who were meant to get hurt.”

“Goddammit, Peter, I could’ve died! How could you let any of us be in that position? You knew this entire time and you didn’t do anything! You didn’t even tell me!”

“I warned you plenty of times before it even began,” Peter says calmly, righting his chess pieces. “I have told you countless times to use your brain, to think outside of the box, but you were too concerned with who was getting hurt and why this was happening to you, that you failed to look at what was your next move. I told you exactly where to go and you didn’t listen, Stiles.”

Stiles takes a deep steadying breath, because he’s so angry right now that he might actually try to shove the queen up Peter’s nostril.

“Tell me you aren’t in on this. Tell me you aren’t the Alpha that’s been biting people.”

Peter stares at him with an unchanging expression for a long moment before rolling his eyes so hard Stiles thinks they might pop out of his head.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Stiles. Of course I’m not in on it. I just happen to be knowledgeable and have a nose for trouble, you know that.”

Stiles lets out a breath and takes the seat across from Peter. “Then why all the quotes and riddles? Why not just tell me straight out what’s going on?”

Peter doesn’t glance around, but he looks like he deeply wants to. “We shouldn’t be talking about this.”

“Why?” Stiles presses.

“The trees have ears and the field has eyes,” Peter says. Then he stares pointedly at Stiles. “Do you understand what that means?”

“The trees could be listening and the field could be watching?”

“Those hiding in the trees or field could be listening or watching. Similarly to how those hiding around the house or in the woods could be listening or watching. I use quotes and riddles so you can use your brain, Stiles, but you are disappointingly slow at times.”

“I resent that.”

“Do you know who your queen is, Stiles?” Peter asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have you figured that out yet?”

“Uh… Me?”

“Precisely. And your king?”

Stiles blinks and points over his shoulder. “Derek.”

Peter nods, pleased. “Correct. Your queen—no offense, nephew—is your most important player and the one who needs to be protected more than any others. This is why I explained zwischenzug and zugzwang to you, so that you were aware of the moves that were being made and knew how to counteract them. And though you didn’t really figure it out, you’ve survived so far. But you’re still in the middle of the game, playing with sharks—”

“Ah, ah!” Stiles waves a hand. “No more metaphors! Tell me what you mean.”

“Playing with certain Alphas,” Peter corrects with a roll of his eyes. “And you’re still in danger.”

“Why couldn’t you have just said that?”

“It wouldn’t’ve been nearly as fun or interesting.”

Stiles groans and drops his head. “You’re the worst. You’re not my friend.” Stiles glances back up at Peter. “When you talked about wolves in sheep’s clothing, you didn’t mean any of the werewolves.”

“No,” Peter agrees.

“You were talking about Jennifer then, too.”

“Yes.”

“Ugh.” Stiles rubs a hand over his face. “Okay, then, going in order: Lydia said you heard when she screamed, when she got bit, even through the magical barrier. Like you were naturally in tune or something.”

Peter hums. “Not naturally in tune, necessarily, but I have always been more connected to other supernatural creatures than anyone I know. There is a whole new world, almost like radio wavelengths, where it is all supernatural. The banshees manipulate it wonderfully and are quite in tune with it, like your young friend. I, too, can lean into the radio, but not at all like they can.”

“Okay…” That kind of makes sense. “So, then, why all the Macbeth? Because the theme is deception and false appearances? ‘Fair is foul and foul is fair’ literally means what looks good is bad and what looks bad is good. The ‘false face’ quote means you have to hide and lie, manipulate. The ‘dagger in men’s smile’ one means those who are closer to you in family or friendship are those who you need to look out for. Was that last one about you?”

“Why are you convinced I did something?”

“Because you look shady, okay? And you hid a bunch of shit from me, shit that got people hurt.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “You were on the right track with deception and false appearances. I was warning you to be careful who you made friends with, and then you went and made friends anyway.”

“Well, you should’ve been more vocal.”

“Perhaps,” Peter agrees.

Derek, from behind Stiles, sighs heavily, a little growl slipping out, and approaches the chess table. Peter’s set up the game again by now, back to where it was, Derek’s copy of Macbeth laying in the middle of the pieces.

“What did you mean that only the people who were meant to get hurt got hurt?” Derek asks.

Peter hums. “There’s a reason why those who got bit got bit. Stiles knows this, Chris Argent knows this.”

“Chris Argent knows why certain people got bit?” Stiles asks, sitting up.

“No,” Peter shoots down. “He speculates, but he doesn’t know why. But he does understand that certain people were bit and others weren’t. You think it’s a coincidence that Scott the asthmatic, Jackson with the emotional trauma that he can barely see through, Isaac with the abused nature, though admittedly he might have been an accident, and Lydia with her dormant banshee powers got chosen? Because they were, Stiles, _chosen_.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Stiles says, waving a dismissive hand. “But I can’t figure out why.”

“You have all the pieces, Stiles, you just don’t know how they go together.”

“You’re going to make me figure it out, aren’t you?”

“Well, yes, but only because I’m not sure of the answer myself.”

“What?!” Stiles exclaims. “What are you talking about? You were the one who—”

“I don’t know who the Alpha is,” Peter admits. “I don’t know why your friends were chosen specifically, but I do know there is a reason. So I suppose it’s whichever of us figures it out first.”

Stiles groans and puts his face in his hands. Derek puts a hand on his back. “But you’ll tell us if you figure it out first?” Derek asks.

Peter makes a contemplative face and there’s a silence, and when Stiles glances up, he sees Derek glaring at Peter with his bright golden eyes. He glances back at Peter, who doesn’t have his Alpha eyes out and actually looks more amused than anything.

“Willing to challenge an Alpha for your mate,” Peter muses. “That’s a dangerous trait to have.”

“No more hiding, no more lying, no more quotes and riddles,” Derek growls, his hand on Stiles’ back drifting upward as he leans in towards Peter. “You’re going to communicate with us and help us, help Stiles, because if another person gets hurt and you knew something and didn’t tell us, Peter, I swear to _God_ —”

“Calm down, Derek, honestly,” Peter huffs, and to be fair, Derek is getting a little too snarly for anyone’s best interests. Peter moves a bishop forward and looks over the chessboard. “I will tell you two if I find anything.”

“Fine,” Stiles sighs, moving one of knights still on the board so that it’s put the king in check. “But you’re going to need to be honest with us from here on out.”

“We’re in the endgame now, Stiles,” Peter says, staring at his threatened king. He glances up at Stiles, his expression slightly serious, but mostly still the same ever observant and contemplative as it always is.

“You people need to stop fucking quoting Avengers to me, it’s giving me expectations,” Stiles grumbles and stands, grabbing the book off the chess table. “So you knew about Jennifer the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“How?”

“I told you. I pick up on the radios better than most, have better hearing is more like it.” Stiles narrows his eyes and Peter concedes with an eye roll. “Jennifer thinks she’s quiet when she plots, but she’s not. I heard her discussing plans with Kali.”

“But you said you don’t know who the Alpha is.”

“I don’t. I know it’s not the twins—those two are nothing more than a pawn—and Ennis is far too weak willed. It’d be easy to assume it’s Kali, since she has the natural hunger of an Alpha, not the new age ones like Satomi and my sister, but the old Alphas who slaughtered to get what they wanted, to get more power. But you can’t possibly forget about Deucalion, so brutal and hungry for more, more Betas, more territory, more power, an Alpha’s Alpha, some fanatics would call him. Both have motives and the means to go about it and therefore I can’t say which it is. I truly don’t know.”

Stiles nods, stepping back so that he’s against Derek’s side and holding the book at his side. Derek keeps a firm hand on his back, still glaring at Peter.

“Yeah, that’s about where I was getting, too. So how do we figure out which one of them it is?”

“I’m not sure,” Peter shrugs, glancing back down at the chessboard and staring at it for a few moments before looking back up at Stiles. “That’s a checkmate. I have no way to remove the threat of capture. My king is lost.” He removes the piece from the board and then reaches over to tap the queen. “But hope is not. Not so long as my queen stands firm and resolute. With a queen standing tall, there is always hope.”

Stiles watches as Peter takes a black knight and moves it across the board, capturing a white rook.

“I hear you loud and clear,” Stiles says. “I’m the queen, so as long as I’m steady, it’ll be hard for us to lose.”

Peter makes an affirmative sound and continues moving his pieces. “It’s better that you have that kind of positive attitude while dealing with this.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Okay, Der, let’s go and leave this nutjob alone, I can’t take any more of this.”

Stiles turns and starts heading out of the library, grabbing a hold of Derek’s hand as they go.

“You should train that attack dog better, Stiles, he might bite someone,” Peter calls to him and Derek turns to snarl at Peter, eyes flashing again. Peter looks smug.

“I’ll train him to bite you,” Stiles threatens before tugging Derek’s hand and pulling him out of the library and upstairs.

Stiles pulls Derek into the bedroom and closes the door, dropping the book on the desk and sighing deeply. “Well, that could’ve gone worse.”

“Another problem kind of taken care of,” Derek says, stepping up behind Stiles and putting his hands on his hips, dipping his head down to kiss Stiles’ neck. Stiles tilts his head back to give him more access.

“With minimal scarring,” Stiles teases. “I find you being all growly very hot, but you can’t fight everyone I disagree with, especially Alphas. You seem to like to fight with Alphas.”

“You seem to like to get in trouble with Alphas,” Derek murmurs against his skin as he kisses up the tendon in his neck, his tongue darting out to taste Stiles’ skin. Stiles leans back into him, laughing breathlessly.

“And yet you always come to my defense,” Stiles hums. Derek’s hands slip under his shirt and his stubble rubs against Stiles’ skin in a way that’s sure to leave a mark.

“And I always will,” Derek promises, nibbling Stiles’ ear. Stiles laughs and goes to say something, but his phone starts ringing in his pocket. He sighs and pulls away, because he knows he won’t be able to focus if he’s still touching Derek.

“Hello?”

“Hi, honey, just calling to see when you’ll be home. It’s late enough as is,” his mother speaks from the other line.

Stiles sighs and then laughs slightly. “You have impeccable timing, Mom.”

There’s a brief silence before Claudia says, “I’m not sure I wanna know what you mean by that. It’s a school night, so I’d prefer if you didn’t stay the night at Derek’s, _kochanie_.”

Stiles understands that her preference is less of a suggestion and more her saying _Get home now_ , so he nods even though she can’t see it and says, “Yeah, no, I’m on my way. I’ll be home in twenty.”

“ _Kocham cię_ ,” Claudia tells him.

“ _Kocham cię_ ,” Stiles repeats and they hang up. Stiles turns back to Derek, who has his hands shoved into his jean pockets and looks way too adorable like this. “I have to go.”

“I figured.”

“We have plenty of time to pick this up later,” Stiles says, leaning into Derek’s space, kissing him softly. “Just not right now.”

“Let me walk you out,” Derek whispers against his lips.

“Obviously,” Stiles smiles and moves away to gather his stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, thank you to Nikt Ważny for the polish translations! <3
> 
> i love a derek that would fight for stiles like without question. just fight on sight. i'm here for that kind of feral protective energy
> 
> we catch up with another person yet again and get the story set straight, which basically means confirming what stiles already knew and a couple of things he didn't. also i'd like to say yet again that we are getting to the end of the series, like i am SO close to being finished with the outline and then i gotta go through and write it all (though the next week and a half is going to be busy for me so like i probably won't even actually be writing until like two weeks from now (but y'all shouldn't notice a difference) but i just can't believe it, this is crazy
> 
> anyway, derek and stiles are also adorable about their bond and i can't wait for y'all to get further in the story because they just get cuter and cuter in my opinion and we still have so much to do
> 
> also sorry i talk about chess a lot, i've played it like once and yet i've devoted portions of my fic to it, i really am a mess i apologize


	26. baby, i'm howlin' for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Then I’m succeeding at my mission. One day, you’ll be mine.”
> 
> “I’m already yours,” Derek says casually as he flips through his notebook. The words halt Stiles in his tracks and he freezes. Their bond pulls between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chap includes a couple of my favorite bits of the series, particularly the moments between derek and stiles. so i really want y'all to be prepared to feel the feelings because they are definitely present and i was in them myself while writing this
> 
> also we're almost to the part about the trial???? time has really flown, though they did postpone this until the last minute 
> 
> chapter title comes from "howlin' for you" by the black keys

Thursday brings a complication, because Jennifer texts him out of nowhere and it’s… Worrying.

Jennifer

_Hey, I’ve heard bits and pieces about you and Derek fighting recently and I’m so sorry to here that, Stiles. I’ve been giving you some room because I know how hard that must be. I was wondering if you’d like to join me for a session today and maybe we could talk about it._

It’s worrying because she’s hearing that Stiles and Derek were fighting. And what’s specifically worrying is that if she heard that, she could just as easily find information that they’re no longer fighting any capacity. Which would go against whatever plan she has concocted and lead her to do something even more drastic and damaging than she’s already done. _That_ is what’s worrying.

So Stiles makes a plan because as of right now, he’s pretty sure only Derek’s family, their friends, and his parents know that he and Derek are together, though they haven’t been secretive about it at school, but Stiles also hasn’t seen the Alpha twins around there recently. Though, that doesn’t mean the Alpha twins haven’t seen them. So he has some loose strings to tie up, but this plan might work otherwise.

He’s in Derek’s room, like he has been a lot recently, sitting in his desk chair and waiting while Derek takes a shower. He thinks maybe that’s supposed to feel weird, especially when Derek will walk into the room with probably nothing but a towel on, but it also feels natural. Just like him waiting in his room for Scott to take a shower. It’s a new concept for Derek and Stiles to be comfortable with each other in different ways, but Stiles so far likes it and likes that they’re learning how to adapt to one another in various aspects.

Stiles doesn’t have to wait very long for Derek, only makes it a couple pages into Frankenstein, which he’s read before and notes that Derek has too, judging by all the markings he’s made in the book that Stiles saw when he flipped through them. It’s a great story, one Stiles loves and has written multiple papers on for school, an analysis about the true definition of monster and who actually is the monster in stories like those, the man or the beast. Actually, he drew a lot of inspiration from knowing about werewolves and their true nature and comparing that to what Hunters say about werewolves, and most supernatural creatures, and judging who would be considered the monster and who would be the man in situations like that. He found almost the same answer every time, exactly what the books teach, what the Hunchback of Notre Dame teaches: the one who typically parades around wearing the mask of man is a monster beneath, and the one who shows their true face from the start is the man all along. It’s an interesting concept anyway.

Derek steps into the room holding a towel and only wearing his underwear, which is continually a sight that Stiles is never prepared and so much worse than just the towel, but Stiles enjoys it very much and is thankful each time he gets it.

Derek steps in and closes the door behind him, going to move across the room.

“Stop right there,” Stiles says, holding out his hands. Derek drops the towel in his hands and takes a slightly defensive stance, eyes wide and clad only in his boxer briefs. “Just stay there.”

Stiles leans back in the chair and brings up his hands to make a square shape with his fingers and thumbs, like he’s one of those photographers viewing a model or a work of art, which, Derek could be called both.

Derek realizes what he’s doing and immediately starts blushing furiously, waving his hand at Stiles’ antics and hands, like he’s trying to shoo them away.

“You’re so beautiful,” Stiles says before Derek can shoot him down.

“Stop it,” he demands, cheeks and ears bright red, and picks up the towel again to drop it off in the corner of the room next to the hamper. Stiles watches him move, his own hands having fallen, biting his lip mostly unintentionally as he stares at Derek.

“We should get you some glasses. Some nice little reading glasses. It would be very Clark Kent, very sexy. You know, you look a little like him,” Stiles tells him. Derek throws him a disbelieving look as he makes his way over to the dresser.

“I literally have perfect vision, Stiles,” he says, ignoring most of what Stiles said, though his cheeks are still bright red, so Stiles is pretty sure he heard and processed it. “Reading glasses would be pointless.”

“Then maybe we should get me some glasses, ‘cause your beauty is blinding,” Stiles says smoothly. He’s immediately reward with a, “Jesus fucking Christ,” as Derek stubs his toe and trips and stumbles over one of his stacks of books. He cackles as Derek stands up, blushing just as furiously as before.

“Shut the fuck up, Stiles,” he hisses, which only makes Stiles laugh harder.

He shamelessly watches Derek dress in nice fitting sweats and a henley that’s also pretty snug across his broad shoulders and chest, and leaves Stiles wondering if Derek’s done this on purpose.

When Derek turns back around, he raises an eyebrow in Stiles’ direction, a slight smirk on his lips. Stiles openly scoffs because that was definitely a challenge, but he has to get serious for a second before they can do this.

“I have to—Jennifer texted me,” Stiles says because there’s no good way to lead into this. Derek blinks and then takes a hesitant seat on the bed, pulling his backpack up with him.

“Oh?” He sounds wary. Stiles doesn’t blame him.

“She wants to meet up because she’s heard you and I are fighting. Actually, she said she heard through the grapevine that we’ve been fighting and has left me alone for a few days because of it, but now she wants me to meet with her again. I’m guessing to do magic, and probably talk about my issues with her.”

“So she doesn’t know?” Derek glances up at him from his notebook. “She hasn’t heard that we—”

“Nope. Nada, I guess. I don’t know who her source is or if she’s making it up.”

“We haven’t been subtle at school. Well, _you_ haven’t been subtle at school,” Derek points out, with another raised eyebrow that shows the slightest bit of accusation, but mostly teasing.

Stiles rolls his heads. “Like you don’t relish in my affection,” Stiles dismisses. Derek blushes faintly and Stiles is thrilled that he’s that easy to fluster. “But you’re thinking exactly what I’m thinking, because at school there’s—”

“The Alpha twins,” Derek finishes for him and then nods. “I haven’t sensed them around, but I also haven’t been paying much attention.”

“You mean I’ve distracted you.”

“You always distract me.”

Stiles beams brightly and feels a little flutter in his chest. “Then I’m succeeding at my mission. One day, you’ll be mine.”

“I’m already yours,” Derek says casually as he flips through his notebook. The words halt Stiles in his tracks and he freezes. Their bond pulls between them.

If Stiles had to use a color to describe the bond, his fight thought would be white. Like burning hot fire, like lightning, like stepping out into the morning sun, like sparks and electricity and water rushing in. Like sand, like flowers, like snow. Like fur, like teeth, like the full moon. Like marble, like ivory, like pebbles on the beach, like starting over, like beginning again. Not blank white, but so bright and magnetic and intense that you can’t even see the other colors, even if you know you can feel them.

Because he can feel a whole fucking rainbow, all the rage and the pain and sadness and the joy and the playfulness and the love, God, all the love. He can feel every single bit of it, barely contained in their bond, vibrating, thrumming with natural energy and electricity, singing with the ineffable hum that courses through them, from Derek and to Stiles and from Stiles and to Derek, back and forth, whole and encompassing. It envelopes him, both of them, surrounds them in their emotions and their adoration and gives as it gets, strong and unimaginable, breathtakingly simple and yet so incredibly complex.

And it’s so bright that the rainbow is drowned out, but never forgotten, just placed into the background of their minds, and all they’re able to concentrate on is each other, like staring directly into the sun and taking in its magnificence until you have spots in your eyes, only there’s no spots and the beauty never ends, never sets or fades, a constant stream of pure energy and emotion and _love_.

That’s what the bond feels like, when he and Derek are together like this. That’s what he’s constantly feeling when he sees Derek or even when he’s away from him, wondering when the next time he’ll get to be around him is.

_This_ is what everyone was talking about. _This_ is what a bond is supposed to feel like, a bond as strong as theirs. And Stiles loves it, loves Derek. He really does.

Derek glances up at him and Stiles notes it’s probably been a hot minute since Derek said _that_ and Stiles has just been waiting here and not saying anything, frozen to his seat while he thinks about their bond and the words that Derek said slowly process in his head.

_Yours. I’m already yours. He’s mine._

“I’ve always been yours,” Stiles blurts out kind of awkwardly. But Derek’s face softens and he sits up straighter in bed.

“Come here,” he says, voice a little husky. Stiles wastes no time in standing up and crossing the short distance to Derek’s bed. Derek shoves his notebook onto the floor while maintaining eye contact with Stiles—which is really fucking hot, oh wow—and when Stiles is within grabbing distance, he shifts and pulls him down so Stiles is seated on his thighs and both Derek’s feet are off the bed and resting on the floor.

Derek kisses him with so much passion and fervor that it makes Stiles weak in every sense of the word. He can’t help the whimper that slips out of him as Derek runs his tongue along the seam of Stiles’ lips, and the whimper only helps him open his mouth to let Derek in. Derek tilts his head and kisses him deeper, which in turn elicits more sounds out of Stiles which in turn makes Derek kiss him deeper or, once when Stiles moans, growl and tightly grip Stiles’ hips, so tight Stiles is sure there’s gonna be bruises there tomorrow, or probably even as soon as he leaves here.

Which reminds him, they have serious stuff to continue to talk about. So, very, very reluctantly, he puts his hands on Derek’s chest and pulls away.

“Not that I don’t love _this_ ,” Stiles starts, “but we still have to talk about Jennifer.”

Derek makes a slightly pouty face for half a second before nodding. He gestures for Stiles to move.

“I’ll think better with you off my lap,” he says softly, like he’s a bit embarrassed. Stiles laughs, because he can feel exactly how much Derek is enjoying this, and in turn, Derek can probably feel how much _he_ is enjoying this, but they do need to get serious for a moment.

“I know you’re not too into the idea of me meeting up with Jennifer, but I think it’s a good opportunity, especially because we have nothing else to go off,” Stiles says as he shifts off Derek’s lap and sits beside him on the bed.

“It’s dangerous, Stiles. That’s why I’m most worried.”

“I think this is a risk we’re going to have to take,” Stiles counters. “We could learn her whole plan like this, and all we have to do is not talk to each other around her.”

“It’s more than that,” Derek protests, looking down at his hands. “It feels like I’m denying you. I don’t want to do that anymore, I don’t want either of us to feel that way.”

Stiles puts a hand on Derek’s knee. “I don’t feel that because I know you’re not. I know your feelings now. We’ve been really good at talking to each other recently and I completely understand where you’re coming from, but I don’t doubt your feelings now. I mean, it’s hard to when you’ve given me all this evidence contrary.”

Derek leans forward and kisses Stiles gently. He pulls back and says, “I trust you and I trust that you know what you’re doing, so if you think it’s a good idea, we’ll do it.”

Stiles can’t help the grin that sneaks on his face, and pokes Derek in the stomach. “I like when you’re honest and you compliment me. Really does wonders for my ego.”

Derek snorts and says, “Yeah, okay. Can we kiss now?”

And who’s Stiles to deny him?

+++

After Stiles leaves Derek’s house, he drives over to his house and parks there before heading to the Nemeton to meet with Jennifer. He’s not sure what to expect this time around and is hesitant, and for a good reason. He needs to keep up appearances, but he’s quite consumed by anger after what she did. But he’s not supposed to know and he’s definitely not supposed to be burning mad at anything. Well, anything besides Derek, in Jennifer’s eyes.

Jennifer seems him approaching and walks over to meet him, her little set up already on the Nemeton. When he gets close enough, she throws her arms open and pulls him into a hug, which he has no choice but to accept. He hugs her back and tries to keep his cool.

“I heard about what happened with Derek. Honey, I’m so sorry,” Jennifer says, a pout evident in her tone.

Stiles clenches his jaw for a second before saying, “I know. I can’t believe it myself. I just thought—”

He cuts himself off for dramatic effect and it works, because Jennifer pulls back and holds him at arm’s length. He puts on his saddest face.

“Oh, I know, sweetie, I know. He’s an asshole, okay? I always told you that you deserve better.”

Stiles clenches his teeth and uses the movement to make it look like he’s trying not to cry. He feels for his mate bond and can feel Derek far enough away to not be detectable off in the trees, watching over them from a distance. He tries to keep up the show.

“You were right all along,” he tells her. “I should’ve listened to you.”

Jennifer sighs and says, “Now you know better though.”

“You’re right. You’ve always been right. I can never trust him again.”

He feels a pang in the bond from Derek and tries to send back reassurance, hoping he doesn’t take these false words to heart.

Jennifer shushes him and pats his arm. “It’s okay, honey. What’s the expression? There are other mates in the world?”

Jennifer turns around to face the Nemeton and Stiles openly glares at her back. If her plan had actually worked and he thought that waking nightmare was real, and this was her “comforting” him, well, that would’ve been a red flag right there. She’s shit at this and probably because she doesn’t actually care, just needs to make it look like she does. It’s almost comforting that she’s not actually invested, because if she had an inkling of a soul, it would’ve made Stiles’ job a lot harder.

“Why don’t we do some light practices today? Work on mastering your spell work?”

“No, I’m okay. I wanna handle the big stuff,” Stiles insists. Jennifer beams at him.

“Well, of course you do,” she says, picking up her journal off the Nemeton and flipping through the pages before stopping randomly, glancing up to grin at Stiles. “How does defensive magic sound?”

Stiles gives her a wobbly grin in return. “It sounds perfect.”

+++

When they’ve finished training for the day, Stiles brings up the idea of leaving. He figures it’s best to incorporate as many truths as possible, and so he tries his best.

“So, my great aunt is supposed to come to town tomorrow from Sacramento and she wants to take me and some of my friends on a trip for the weekend, so we won’t be able to train, is that okay?”

Aunt Wanda’s not coming to town tomorrow, but she is from Sacramento and does like to take Stiles on trips, and occasionally Scott. Half-truths, he’s learned, work best not only with werewolves, but with everyone.

Jennifer’s expression doesn’t change, but her movements become a little tenser and not as smooth. “Oh? Where would you go?”

“Well, she’s one of those rich types who has a beach house near Laguna Beach,” Stiles lies smoothly. The Hale beach house is nowhere near that south, mostly just straight west, but of course Jennifer doesn’t know that. “She’s been lonely ever since my uncle Bazyli died last spring, and all her kids are grown and living in different states, so she’s lonely, just sits around all day and withers away, you know? And my parents would kill me if I tried to turn her away.”

Uncle Baz did die last spring and Aunt Wanda took it hard, but she’s not the lonely type at all. She’s the type to find new friends or a new hobby or really anything rather than sit around be lonely. And his parents would kill him if he turned her away, not that he ever would because Aunt Wanda’s a certified badass who usually rides a motorcycle and has been to a bunch of different countries and one time wound up in a Turkish prison, probably Stiles’ most outlandish relative. She also does have a beach house near Laguna Beach, but her daughter’s currently living in it, Mom’s cousin Cheryl and her family. But again, Jennifer doesn’t need to know all of this.

Because for all that Jennifer and Stiles have talked and everything he’s told her, he’s only told her about himself and occasionally his parents, and his friends and Derek, of course. But he doesn’t talk about his extended family because he rarely sees them, so they’re not often on the forefront of his mind. Jennifer should have no idea what he’s talking about and just eat it all up, unless she’s done serious research. Which Stiles really hopes she hasn’t.

“Ah, to be young and under the control of your parents,” Jennifer muses before shrugging. “How could you resist family? Take the weekend off, we’ll pick up on Monday. I just hope you’re prepared for the trial tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Stiles asks. Right, no, he remembers Kira telling them that. Jennifer raises an eyebrow.

“You haven’t heard? After all that pushing and angry posturing, Deucalion’s decided the trial will be tomorrow. You are expected to attend, you know. Your little friends, too. And… Derek, of course.”

“Of course,” Stiles says softly, looking down. “You don’t think… It’ll be weird?”

“Honey, I don’t think he’ll look your way twice,” Jennifer admits bluntly. Stiles lets his shoulder curl in more and Jennifer clucks her tongue, coming over to rest a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “Don’t be discourage. I’ll be there if you need me. Besides, I’m sure no one will expect you two to actually interact.”

“Right…” Stiles trails off. He looks up at Jennifer. “Thank you for your help, Jennifer. I really appreciate it. You’ve been more help to me than anyone else. I can’t talk to anyone the way I can talk to you.”

Jennifer smiles at him and pats his cheek gently. “You know I’m always here for you, Stiles. I just want what’s best for you. I just want to make you happy.”

Stiles fights off the urge to shudder and forces a smile onto his face. He quickly pulls her into a hug, to which she laughs, startled, before hugging him back and then pushing him back to arm’s length.

“Go. Prepare for the trial and your trip. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Stiles nods. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

And heads off into the woods toward his house.

+++

He texts Derek when he gets home, even though Derek overheard the conversation between him and Jennifer.

_trial tmrw. will tlk mor bout it @ school_

Derek texts back an affirmative and Stiles heads to his bathroom to scrub the feeling of Jennifer’s touch off of him.

+++

Because Stiles is impatient, as soon as he sees Derek’s car pull up, he heads over and opens the passenger side door.

“That’s weirdly chivalrous of you, Stilinski, but shouldn’t you be opening Derek’s door?” Cora asks as she climbs out of the car. Stiles fake laughs and she smirks.

“I just need to talk to Derek,” he explains, slipping past her and getting into the car. He hears her say, “Whatever,” before walking away and Stiles shuts the car door.

Derek has his hand on the keys still in the ignition and stares at Stiles. “Hello,” he greets. Stiles leans across the console and kisses him briefly in response.

“Hello, we need to talk about Jennifer.”

Derek makes a grumbling noise and leans back in his seat. “Okay. What about?”

“Well, primarily, we can’t date in public,” Stiles says bluntly. Derek stares at him blankly for a second before opening his mouth to speak. Stiles cuts him off. “I mean, we need to only keep our families and the pack in on it. Not necessarily the entirety of the Hale pack right now, but _our_ pack. It needs to stay in house.”

“Didn’t we already have this discussion? Or is this just really bad déjà vu?”

“Shut up, I’m serious. I’m just reiterating, because I talked to Jennifer and she thinks I’m all torn apart because I “ _saw_ ” you and Kate getting it on.”

Derek winces. “We need another name for her, because repeatedly hearing your nightmare is scarring me.”

“It scarred me. But we can call her maniacal bitch, if you’d prefer. Homicidal bitch?”

“Bitch is fine.”

“Right so, because I saw fake you and fake bitch fake getting it on, I’m supposed to be a wreck. Jennifer said she heard what happened, right, which means she was lying, which is highly probable, or she actually has someone on the inside that lied to her in our favor.”

“That’s somewhat reassuring. Someone’s potentially looking out for us somewhere,” Derek says. Stiles nods.

“We can only hope,” Stiles agrees. Then he glances slyly at Derek. “You know, a secret relationship isn’t all that bad. Think of all the sneaking around we’ll be doing. Making out in dark corners, pulling each other into janitor closets. It’ll be very hot, Der.”

Derek levels him with a look. “The janitor closets are locked for that exact reason. And there’s not a lot of dark corners around school, and it’s not like you and I go out in public much other than that.”

Stiles acts mock hurt. “I’m offended by that statement,” he pouts. “We go out in public plenty. But if you’re offering to take me on a date, I accept.”

Derek laughs and grabs Stiles’ hand. “We can go on a real date when this all settles over. For now, I’m afraid it’s going to be staying in our houses and maybe an extra surprise or two.”

“Well, I do love surprises,” Stiles teases, meeting Derek’s smirking mouth halfway across the console for another kiss, this one longer than the first, more drawn out and lingering.

“You’re really good at that,” Stiles muses as they pull away. Derek leans in again and presses another two quick pecks to Stiles’ lips before leaning out of his reach.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Derek smirks. Stiles scoffs.

“The highest praise.”

Derek rolls his eyes and uses the hand that’s still holding Stiles’ to gesture a rolling sort of motion. “Moving on,” he says. “The trial is today.”

“Right. Everyone’s going to be there and I haven’t talked to your mom about it recently, but she still doesn’t have evidence, does she? I mean, how are we supposed to prove Satomi’s innocence when the others are so clearly against her? Jennifer said the Talia was scrambling around to plant evidence—”

“My mom would never do that,” Derek hisses, not angry at Stiles, but rather at the suggestion.

Stiles nods. “I know. She’s just. But no one else is, that’s the problem.”

“Deaton is. He’d keep a fair trial,” Derek says hopefully. Stiles shakes his head.

“I’m not so sure. I mean, I think he’s mainly a good guy and I know he’s not as out there as his sister about keeping the balance, but I think he’d do what he had to in order to maintain the peace, you know?”

Derek hums, but nods. “Yeah, you have a point.”

“This is probably gonna be shit no matter what.”

“I see very few ways that this turns out entirely good,” Derek grimaces, and Stiles sighs. That’s what he feared.

He can’t imagine how Talia must be feeling right now. Everything is on the brink of destruction and all she can do is look on and wait for it to tip over, maybe try to salvage what she can on the way down, save as many people as possible.

“We have to protect your mom,” Stiles says, slumping back in his seat, squeezing Derek’s interlaced fingers with his own. “I mean, proving Satomi’s innocence is important, but if this all goes to shit, your mom is our top priority. We’ll take on all of the Alphas if we have to. She’s the Great Alpha and our Alpha and, most importantly, family. We can’t let anything happen to her.”

Stiles glances over at Derek and sees this delicate expression on his face. He’s staring at Stiles like he’s the most profound thought Derek’s ever had, like he’s not real and the second he blinks, he’ll disappear into the sunlight. Stiles sits up a little straighter in his seat.

“What?” he asks when the silence stretches on a little longer than Stiles is comfortable with. He starts to fidget.

Derek looks like he wants to say something, but he holds it on his tongue for another moment before blinking and shaking his head, dropping his gaze to their joint hands. “Nothing,” he says, but Stiles knows it’s not nothing, but he doesn’t want to push Derek either, especially because he knows Derek still has a hard time articulating his feelings. He decides waiting a little longer will probably work and if it doesn’t, he’ll fill the silence like he always does.

So he waits, staring at Derek patiently, until Derek lifts his head and says softly, “I really like when you talk like that.”

“Like what?” Stiles asks, slightly confused.

“Like you’re—like you’re one of us. Like you care.”

“I _am_ one of you and I _do_ care,” Stiles reminds him gently. Derek nods and smiles this soft, private little smile.

“I know. I just like when you remind me. It—always surprises me,” Derek confesses.

“It shouldn’t,” Stiles insists. “You mean a lot to me. All of you do, but you especially.”

Derek ducks his head, but Stiles sees the tips of his ears and his cheeks turn pink.

“You mean a lot to me, too,” Derek whispers. Stiles uses his free hand to cup Derek’s cheek and tilt his head upward. Derek leans into the touch and Stiles leans forward to kiss him once again, slow and gentle and careful.

This one doesn’t break off for a few minutes, and only does because Derek laughs when the bell rings, only barely audible from the car to Stiles, and pulls back and says, “We’re gonna be late to class.”

“I don’t care,” Stiles tells him, pulling him in for another kiss. Derek laughs again, but indulges him for a few seconds before pulling away once more.

“The thing about secret dating,” Derek says, “is that you can’t draw attention to yourself.”

“We have different first hours,” Stiles argues. Derek shakes his head with a smile on his face.

“It’s still suspicious if we’re both late to our first classes. Not to mention the twins.”

“They’d already be able to smell us on each other, don’t use them as an excuse,” Stiles says dramatically, opening his door and climbing out. Derek follows suit and locks the car when they’re both out. “You just don’t want me to be happy.”

Derek laughs loudly at that and Stiles grins at him, bumping their shoulders together as they approach the school.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was one of my absolute favorite bits to write between derek and stiles. the part about the bond, them talking in the car, just them being open with each other,,, makes my heart melt
> 
> the whole concept of who is the man and who is the monster is something i actually wrote a real life essay on and talked heavily about frankenstein and paradise lost and drew inspiration from other gothic victorian novels and older stories like the hunchback of notre dame. it is something i am absolutely fascinated by and is one of my favorite things in the entire world. it's part of the reason why this fic got its title name from the song "monster" by imagine dragons and i do believe i talk about it again in the story. i just wanted to let you all know that that idea is like my favorite thing ever and i would write a dissertation on it in a heartbeat (and if it pertained to my major)
> 
> i also don't know how many times i reiterate that they haven't seen the alpha twins in a hot minute, so if this is the tenth time, i apologize. if it's the second, you'll probably get that information at least one or two more times. i'm sorry, i don't know why i'm like this
> 
> also, i feel like i should say now, i'm terrified to write sex scenes haha so i might try to lead up to it and like give a vague overview you know without getting descriptive, but it's safer for little everybody that i don't try to actually write them. that being said, not yet sure if there will be something like that in this fic, but i thought i should let you know anyway
> 
> ALSO there's a chapter count!!! it's tentative, because i'm still finishing everything up and working it all out and i just got my old job back so i might get busy, although school is about to end for a couple weeks before starting back up for the fall, so i'm gonna try to stick to that number of chapters, but it might go a little lower, might go a little higher, i'm not yet sure how it's all going to come together, but i will let you know when i know! <33


	27. it's the hour of the wolf and i don't want to die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We will begin,” she announces, voice carrying through the clearing clearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the long-awaited trial is here! it's actually short??? like i don't know how i managed to make it so short, but i've gone over it several times and i still can't find anything i want to add to it, so this is it for now
> 
> chapter title comes from "no one lives forever" by oingo boingo

When they get to the Hale House that afternoon after lacrosse practice, Talia greets Stiles and Derek in the kitchen.

“Boys. I hope your day was good,” she says, pushing a plate of sandwiches toward them, a triangular sandwich in her own hand. “We have to talk.”

“The trial’s tonight,” Stiles guesses. Talia’s expression is grim.

“I wasn’t sure Deucalion would ever pick a date, but it seems he got tired of waiting.” She sighs and takes a bite of her sandwich, looking a tad contrite. “This is getting out of hand.”

“It’ll be over soon,” Derek says, stepping over to stand next to his mom and push against her side with his body. He slings an arm around her, easily taller than her. “I feel like we’re making progress.”

“But we have no way to help Satomi and no idea who’s trying to attack Stiles, if Jennifer is working with one of the Alphas or not.” Talia takes a deep breath and then laughs a little, leaning against Derek. “I’m sorry, you two don’t want to hear me talk about this.”

Stiles never sees Talia vulnerable, and, actually, it’s weird to see her be so openly nervous and unsure. But it’s also reassuring, a reminder that she’s human, too. Well, werewolf, but whatever.

“We’re scared, too,” Stiles tells her, leaning forward and taking her free hand. “It’s okay to be scared. You’ve taught me that.”

“And me,” Derek chips in. “You’re always telling me that how we act when we’re scared is what defines our character.”

Talia sets down her sandwich and pulls on Stiles’ hand. “Come here,” she insists. Stiles comes around on her opposite side and she pulls both boys into a strong hug, using her werewolf strength for sure. Stiles and Derek hug her back.

“I’m so proud of you two,” she tells them. “Every day you surprise me. I am astonished by you and what you do.”

She squeezes both of them and kisses each of them on their cheeks before pulling away.

“It will be okay,” she tells them, though it mainly sounds like she’s trying to convince herself. “Now you boys go ahead upstairs alright. When it comes time, Stiles, you’ll need to go home and return to the woods with your family, not us.”

“Won’t Derek and I smell like each other? I mean, will the Alphas know?”

Talia shakes her head. “You can shower with some soap we have, we’ll send you home with it. It’ll remove other people’s scent from you. You’ll still smell faintly like Derek, but it will be faint enough that people will assume it’s days, if not a week or so, old. That also means no mixing scents heavily today.”

“So no making out?” Stiles asks bluntly. Derek hits his arm, cheeks red as usual. Wow, he really gets embarrassed that easily. And has no idea that Stiles absolutely loves it and relishes in making him blush.

Talia levels him with a look, but the corners of her mouth quirk up. “Try to refrain,” she tells him, then gently pushes them. “Go ahead. Grab a sandwich, do your homework.”

Derek and Stiles dutifully take a sandwich each and head up the back staircase to Derek’s room.

+++

Talia sends him home eventually with some soap and he takes extra care to wash everything when he gets home. The scent’s not gonna disappear, like Talia said, but he can try to get rid of as much of it as possible.

He doesn’t know how to dress either. It’s not like actually court, but maybe it is in a weird way. He decides on his trusty best flannel and nice jeans and hopes it’s enough, slipping the moonstone into his pocket as well.

He isn’t why he holds onto the moonstone honestly, because shouldn’t it have protected him from that waking nightmare of seeing Derek and Kate kissing? He’s already mused on this privately, but he’s still confused about it. Maybe it didn’t work because the nightmare didn’t actually happen while he was sleeping. He’s not sure, but his trust in the moonstone is a little shaken.

In all that time with Jennifer, which admittedly wasn’t long but still, he never told her about the moonstone, not once. It’s wasn’t something she needed to know about, something that just never came up. So it’s not like she could’ve done something to counteract it. Maybe she knew Stiles had something like it because he never told her about nightmares, and the one time she did ask because he looked tired, he had been honest and said he just hadn’t had them for a while. Maybe that’s it.

He’s not sure, but it makes him wary of the moonstone, though he does carry it anyway because he can’t deny that having it makes him feel safer and more in control. And right now, he needs that more than anything.

His parents kind of dress up, his mom in a nice floral dress with her hair done up and his father wearing one of his nice blue button-ups and his black leather belt he only wears on special occasions. Could this even be called a special occasion? For all Stiles knows, it might end up being an execution, and he’s not sure any of them will be able to stop it.

They drive in the Bug to the Hale House, and walk from there into the clearing Talia had specified when she sent Stiles home. Everyone’s there, everyone meaning all of the Five Packs that are still in town, which includes a majority of his friends that are here representing the Hale pack, Kira and her family with Satomi’s pack, who all stand closest to the Hales, and the Alphas and their Emissaries, Jennifer missing oddly enough, the Alpha twins standing behind Deucalion and looking weirdly timid and small, so unlike how they are at school. Though, again, it’s not like Stiles has seen them enough recently, which is really worrying.

Scott, Lydia, Jackson, and Isaac stand at the front of the Hale pack, just behind Talia, Red, Peter, and Laura. Melissa and Natalie stand behind their children, but Jackson and Isaac’s parents aren’t here, which isn’t a shock, because Stiles is pretty confident that their parents don’t know about all this, which is against Talia’s rules, but it’s probably better this way. Scott waves when he sees Stiles, and Stiles waves back, but it’s not very enthusiastic on either of their parts, due to what’s happening.

Satomi and Deaton stand apart from everyone, Satomi looking as poised as ever and Deaton not looking at or talking to anyone, a weird bit of cloth hung over his shoulders with some familiar runes sewn on it, protection ones, ones that mean wisdom and fairness if Stiles is remembering them correctly. Maybe it’s something he wears when he does druid business, or maybe it’s specific to his task tonight, Stiles isn’t sure.

He sees Deucalion and Kali and Ennis all standing in a circle, not talking, but standing close together, watching everyone else. Deucalion’s unseeing eyes land on Stiles, or rather his face points in Stiles’ direction, and his nostrils flare and he smiles with all his teeth. Stiles fights off a shudder and looks away.

“Stiles,” he hears from behind him. He glances back and sees Jennifer hanging just outside of the clearing in the trees. She smiles at him and waves him over. Every part of Stiles wants to say no and keep walking, but he’s the one who wanted to keep up appearances, so he breaks off from his parents with a promise to find them and approaches her.

“Hi,” he greets when he stands in front of her. Jennifer smiles back at him.

“How are you feeling?” she asks, gesturing to the clearing to her left. They’re in plain view of anyone who looks over, which Stiles assumes is exactly what she planned. He glances over, keeping a nervous expression on his face as he tries to see who might be watching them like this, see why Jennifer put them on display like this. They can still be heard, Stiles know, but it will be harder to hear them with everyone talking amongst themselves as they are.

He doesn’t really see anyone watching them. Kali glances over once, but it looks more like she’s scanning the area than actively looking at them. Talia is purposely not looking at them, but, behind her, Stiles catches Derek watching them. He wants to signal for Derek to look away, but there’s literally no safe way for him to do that, except the bond. He tries to send the idea through the bond, but bonds don’t really work off ideas necessarily, so he tries to send the feeling of looking away, but it might be too abstract. He hopes Derek gets the idea anyway and he hopes Jennifer doesn’t notice Derek looking in the first place.

“Nervous,” he truthfully admits. “I don’t know what’s going to happen. How are you feeling?”

Jennifer smirks. “Oh, not too bad. Honestly, I’m just relieved justice will be served. Satomi will get what she deserves.”

Judging from her tone and the malicious glint in her eye, Stiles knows she’s talking about a different kind of justice than what Stiles is hoping for. He makes his best innocent doe eyes and says, “Surely you’re worried to lose a friend as good as Satomi.”

Jennifer raises an eyebrow. “Did I say Satomi and I were friends?” she chuckles amusedly. “Just because it’s encouraged for the Alphas and Emissaries of the Five Packs to be friends doesn’t mean that it happens. You make friends where you can find them, even if that’s in the dark.”

Stiles hears an internal alarm going off at that statement. “Well, sure, I get making friends where you can. I mean, you and I are unlikely friends.”

“That we are,” Jennifer agrees with smug smile.

“But Satomi’s a powerful ally, isn’t she? It’s a shame to lose someone like that,” Stiles pushes.

Jennifer tosses her hair. “The only thing powerful about Satomi is her people and her age. People think because she’s old that makes her more powerful, wiser. But she’s no wiser than me, than anyone. If she’s removed from the board, her people will turn back into the sheep they are, hiding under wolves’ clothing. They’ll be easy to move, in the face of such tragedy.”

Stiles thinks it’s rather odd that she chose to use that allusion, but doesn’t comment on it. He wants to argue that Jennifer has never met Satomi’s people, if that’s what she thinks, because from what Stiles has gathered, they’re steadfast, and they won’t be moved by someone like Jennifer and whoever her friends in the dark are. They’ll demand justice.

“I never thought about it like that,” Stiles says, letting a tiny bit of wonder seep into his tone. Not enough to throw her off, but enough for her to recognize and hopefully bask in, think she’s doing something right. “I still can’t imagine losing my Alpha that way.”

Jennifer hums and smirks, putting a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “We all will lose our Alpha one way or another,” she tells him. “That’s the circle of life. You have an Alpha, you spend time with your Alpha and grow with them, your Alpha dies, either naturally or by someone else’s hand and the Alpha spark gets passed on, and you get a new Alpha. And on and on and on it goes. Your Alpha will die like mine will. Let’s just hope that doesn’t happen for a long time, yeah?”

Stiles nods and Jennifer squeezes his shoulder before running a hand down his arm and pulling away. Stiles immediately feels gross from her touch, and it takes everything in him not to pull away and try to rub the feeling of her off his skin, but he has a duty to do and so he etches the inklings of a lovesick look on his face and smiles at her.

“Let’s go see some justice, shall we? It’s sure to be a show,” Jennifer promises with a grin. Stiles nods and gives a little grin of his own.

“Let’s.”

They go their separate ways as she heads over to stand by Kali’s side and Stiles heads to stand beside Talia, his parents standing back closer to Derek. Stiles, though it takes some willpower, sends a positive feeling through bond to Derek, who sends a relieved one back. He’s pretty sure Jennifer didn’t notice Derek looking, but if she did, she probably wouldn’t’ve said anything anyway. It’s fine, it’ll be fine.

“Hey, dude,” Scott says, knocking into his shoulder. He’s wearing a red bow tie that looks ridiculous on him and Stiles suspects Melissa forced him to wear. Stiles reaches out and pokes it.

“Hey, Doctor,” Stiles teases. Lydia does a dainty little snort and crosses her arms over her chest. Stiles should’ve pegged her as a Doctor Who fan.

“What?” Scott asks and Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Nothing, never mind,” he says. Scott opens his mouth to say something, but then Talia claps next to Stiles and people start to fall silent.

“We will begin,” she announces, voice carrying through the clearing clearly. The sun’s pretty much set now and the moon is creeping across the sky. It’s not full, there’s still another two or three weeks until the full moon and everything goes to shit, if everyone is right about that, but it still shines in the night sky, illuminating the clearing and for what it can’t illuminate, there’s lanterns with candles, most on the ground, some that people are holding. It makes the whole setting look ominous and strange, like an old dream Stiles once had when he was younger of mystical beings in the woods, tromping through the fog and mist and scurrying through the leaves.

“We are gathered here today because Satomi Ito has been accused of unlawfully biting Scott McCall without permission from the Territory Alpha or the Great Alpha, who here happen to be the same, as well as biting Lydia Martin, Jackson Whittemore, and Isaac Lahey after the fact,” Deaton introduces, pulling the shroud around his shoulders tighter. “I will be acting as Judge for this trial. Talia Hale is your Territory and Great Alpha and Satomi Ito will stand trial and answer to these accusations. Please, Stiles, since you were there both nights, will you please recount what happened, starting with the night Scott McCall was bitten?”

Stiles nods and steps forward slightly, trying not to display how nervous he feels. Although that might work to his advantage.

“Scott and I went into the woods that night to… Well, to look for this creature that’s been stalking me. It wasn’t smart, especially us going alone, and I had a bad feeling and was about to call it off when all of the sudden this… Thing came out of the woods. It didn’t look like a wolf, not completely, but that’s what it was, I guess. It rushed us and I think it was trying to bite me, but I dove and Scott got tackled instead. It bit him and ran away, didn’t do anything else. Derek and the Hales came to find us shortly afterwards.”

The crowd takes this in. Deaton says, “I see. And the second occurrence?”

“There was a group of us out in the woods. Some supernatural, some human. We were having a bonfire. There—there was a noise and then it got quiet and then the shadow came out of nowhere, melting out of the darkness. The Alpha came out not long after. It bit Isaac, then Jackson, then Lydia. Then it left. The shadow left, too. That’s really all I know.”

Not a good idea to add that he was the one who sent the nalusa chito away in the first place. He doesn’t think anyone needs to know that, needs to know that he has skills.

Deaton hums. “Would anybody else like to add anything?’

Deucalion, of course, steps forward into the middle of the clearing. “Satomi is infamous for masking her scent, in the way that none of us Alphas can. Had there been a scent magically removed, we would’ve smelled it. But it was like a scent never existed.”

Stiles sees Talia’s eyebrows pull together, a clear sign that something in that sentence didn’t sit right with her. Stiles glances at Deaton and sees that he too looks the slightest bit confused, but you wouldn’t be able to tell if you weren’t looking for it. Stiles turns back to Deucalion.

Deucalion pauses presumably for dramatic effect before continuing. “She bit the boy in a desperate bid for power. She is losing two of her most valuable pack members, Noshiko Yukimura and her young daughter, both kistune. They are moving here to Beacon Hills, to Talia’s territory, thus giving her more power. Surely, Satomi felt this loss and made a move to secure her position. Same with the other three.”

“That’s not true,” Noshiko says carefully.

“Satomi would never do that,” Kira argues, probably the angriest Stiles has ever seen her, with genuine anger directed at Deucalion, who doesn’t seem to notice or care.

“Silence,” Deaton commands, his face not changing. Stiles feels like they’re already losing this uphill battle.

“That does seem like a bit of a stretch,” Talia says, “I know Satomi well and I know Satomi would not randomly go out and bite people, especially not for power. She’s an aged werewolf, she has no desire for the kind of power that young wolves crave.”

“Perhaps she had plans to move in on your territory, Great Alpha, did you consider that? She’s turning the _humans_ you _claim_ to protect into wolves, controlling Beacon Hills from the inside,” Deucalion theorizes. Everyone murmurs.

“That’s ridiculous—”

“Great Alpha, please,” Deaton says calmly. Talia stops talking, but looks like she still wants to protest. “Does anyone else have anything they’d like to add?”

“Yeah, actually,” a familiar voice from behind Stiles says. Stiles glances back and sees Derek working his way through the crowd. “Satomi couldn’t have done this because I was with Satomi that night.”

Deucalion straight up laughs. “Oh, she was miraculously with _you_ that night? Please, prove it.”

Derek pulls out a couple of white squares from his pocket that Stiles recognizes as old school Polaroids, like the ones that Laura always leaves around the Hale House. “These are Polaroids. My sister Laura has a Polaroid camera and is always taking pictures of us, ask anyone. These she took the night Scott was bit, just before we left the house.”

Derek hands them to Deaton who glances over the pictures before turning them to the crowd. The murmuring starts up again. The wolves have no problem seeing the photos, and Stiles only can because of his proximity to Deaton.

In the photographs, there’s a couple flares probably from werewolf eyes, but there are two figures, one that resembles Derek and is wearing clothes Stiles is positive he owns, and one that resembles Satomi’s shape and is wearing clothes Stiles has seen her in before. There’s a Go board between them, a game halfway through from the looks of it.

Stiles doesn’t actually know what Derek was doing before he came to Stiles’ aid that night. This could’ve happened. He doesn’t know why Derek wouldn’t say something sooner, but that doesn’t matter right now.

Deucalion laughs again, but this one is far angrier and more bitter. He turns to Laura.

“Did you take those photos on that night, the night that Scott McCall was bitten?” he demands. Laura’s face betrays nothing.

“Yes, I did. Satomi and Derek were playing Go and Satomi was winning, of course. I took those photos,” she confirms, voice unwavering. Stiles thinks he’d be shaking in his boots if it were him, but Laura is resolute and firm and cannot be shaken by anyone.

Deucalion growls lowly and turns to Satomi. “Is this you in the photos? Not a dummy or a lookalike, magic? Is this you?”

Satomi is also a blank mask. “It appears that way.”

It’s not much of an answer and Deucalion realizes it. Stiles thinks that Deucalion must also be hearing their heartbeats, too, and can tell they’re not lying.

Stiles glances around to gauge other people’s faces. Some don’t look surprised, some do. Like Kira, for example, has a surprised expression on her face. She opens her mouth to speak, but Noshiko shushes her quietly. Stiles furrows his eyebrows and looks back to Deucalion.

“Given what has transpired, and the truthful confessions of witnesses and photographic evidence, I have no choice but to make my sentence,” Deaton declares. Stiles holds his breath. “Satomi Ito, for the crimes of biting Scott McCall, Lydia Martin, Jackson Whittemore, and Isaac Lahey, you are found not guilty. You are free to go.”

Cheering erupts, but Stiles keeps his face and body still. He tries to look confused and glances over to see Jennifer looking at him, an unreadable expression on her face.

“You’ll regret that,” he hears Deucalion sneer furiously at Talia, before he turns and stalks off into the woods, his entourage following, Jennifer tearing her eyes away from Stiles as she goes.

The wolves start breaking off and heading after their Alphas, most of them looking unsure over what just happened. A few look just as angry as Deucalion, which Stiles knows is gonna be a problem in the future.

Scott throws himself around Stiles, the others coming up around them, the only people missing from their friend group being Derek and Allison at the moment.

“That’s good, right? We did really good?” Scott asks hopefully. Kira makes a pinched face and glances over at Derek, who’s talking with Laura. Stiles watches her for a moment before turning toward Derek.

“I hope so,” he says, slipping out from underneath Scott and walking over to Derek.

Laura ruffles his hair when he approaches.

“Hey, small fry. That went better than expected, huh?”

“Maybe.” Stiles turns to Derek. “Why didn’t you tell me you were with Satomi that night?” Stiles asks Derek. Laura whistles lowly.

“This sounds like it’s going to be a fight, so I’ll just—” She excuses herself and Derek looks sheepish.

“I wasn’t with Satomi that night,” he says quietly, glancing around. “Not for the end of the night, anyway. Her Emissary, Alya, she helped me fake the photos to make it look like we were together, and I got Laura to help lie. Satomi’s the only one who didn’t know, but I guess she pieced it together.”

Stiles stares at Derek incredulously. “Why would you do that?”

“Because I know that Satomi’s innocent! And I couldn’t just stand by and watch her be tried for something she clearly didn’t do.”

Stiles opens his mouth to speak, but Satomi walks up and looks at Derek.

“You didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been just fine, had you not lied.”

“I’m not sorry, and I would do it again if I had to,” Derek tells her earnestly.

Satomi smiles. “You have a big heart. It makes you both a good person and a good werewolf.” She glances at both of them, then. “Thank you both for what you have done. I won’t forget it.”

She walks away without another word, her Emissary coming up to take her place.

“Derek! I wanted to thank you for everything. I love working with Satomi and I would hate it if I had to work with someone like Deucalion…”

Alya trails off and gets this faraway look in her eye for a moment before smiling tightly. When she speaks, Stiles has no idea where she has gone to or why she’s telling them this.

“There’s a clearing I always go to, when I need to get away. Not too far past the lake. This really is lovely territory, especially for thinking.” Alya gets quiet again and takes a deep breath before forcing that smile back on her face. “Well, thank you, anyway. Excuse me.”

She disappears just as well, her platinum hair vanishing in the crowd.

“Well, that was weird,” Stiles concludes.

“Yeah, it was,” Derek murmurs as they both stare at where she disappeared to.

Stiles reaches over and slaps Derek’s arm.

“Ow! What the hell, Stiles?” Derek demands. Stiles rolls his eyes.

“We both know that barely hurt you, first of all, and second, if you ever do something that risky again and lie to an _Alpha_ , you better tell me.”

“The whole reason I didn’t want to tell you was because I didn’t want you to be at risk, too.”

“Too bad,” Stiles says. “I’m your mate, which means you’re stuck with me and we do shit together. Good shit, bad shit, stupid shit, and _especially_ life-threatening shit.”

Derek smiles and shakes his head. “Well, I’ll be sure to fill you in next time.”

“You better,” Stiles threatens.

This time, Talia walks up and she brings both of the boys in for a hug immediately. After a few moments, she pulls away and looks at them.

“Now is probably the best time for your vacation,” she tells them. “Tensions are going to be very high, anything could happen.”

“Are you kidding? That means it’s important that we stay here with you guys,” Stiles argues. “We can’t leave you now.”

Talia smiles a little sadly. “Stiles, not to worry you, but everything that’s happened has happened around _you_. Perhaps it’s best for everyone is you have a respite. Go and be a teenager for a weekend. We’ll manage on our own.”

Stiles glances at Derek who shrugs at him, like he’s saying _your call_. Stiles sighs and nods.

“Yeah, okay. Be a teenager,” he echoes.

“Come. Let’s head back. You have an early day ahead of you tomorrow,” Talia says, and gestures for them to follow her out of the woods.

Stiles grabs Derek’s hand and nods.

“Let’s go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> talia is a mom to everybody, i don't make the rules
> 
> also, if you were curious about the moonstone and why it didn't work, stiles finally muses on it a bit. he doesn't know what's going on though, so that's definitely something to keep in mind...
> 
> derek, laura, and alya hatched plans and got satomi free, and we'll see what exactly that's going to mean in the future, as well as what deucalion means by "you'll regret that." but first, we're going to let them be teenagers and have fun!
> 
> i really can't wait for y'all to read this next one, it's so fluffy and sweet and there was two distinct parts where i was like *i am not equipped to handle this, this is too much for me oh my god* so i really think that y'all will enjoy it! <33
> 
> also, sorry if i've been sort of not all there or the content hasn't been as great. it's a rough time right now and i'm hoping that as soon as school is done in a few days that it'll be better, but i guess we'll see <33


	28. after the fires, before the flood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles greets Derek with a kiss because he can and Derek hums and pulls him closer when he tries to pull away, which just makes Stiles laugh.
> 
> “There’ll be plenty of time for that at the beach house,” Laura teases as she walks past, grinning brightly. Stiles flips her the bird and she cackles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> again, i am so sorry this is late. basically, i forgot how to be a human being yesterday because i literally didn't do a single thing i needed to, including posting this chapter and my schoolwork, which now gets deducted points and screws me royally, but it's totally fine, i'm fine
> 
> warnings: there's some underage drinking in this chap, but it's not too heavily (stiles gets tipsy basically) and that's the only effects you see from it and nothing happens without consent and the stuff that "happens" isn't anything that i would consider dubcon in any way, however once the alcohol breaks out, read w caution, because you might be more careful with that sort of thing than i am
> 
> chapter title comes from "fresh blood" by eels

Early Saturday morning, like early enough that the sun is still rising and Stiles is cursing Derek for ever suggesting that they go to the beach house, Stiles gets up and groans, stumbling over his duffel bag as he makes his way to the bathroom. He’d packed late last night when he got home, just a duffel bag and a backpack since they literally will only be there today, spend the night, and leave tomorrow afternoon or evening. They probably should’ve planned this better, but spring break was a bit of a mess. But they’ve worked mostly everything out now, so it should be fun.

He gets ready as fast as he’s able and gets his stuff loaded in the car, giving his parents hugs and promising to be safe on his way out.

He picks up Scott first because he’s closest. Melissa leans against the door as she watches him head to Stiles’ Jeep. Stiles waves and greets her, promises not to do anything stupid when she commands it and helps Scott load his stuff. They get back into the Jeep after Melissa comes over and hugs and kisses both of them on the cheek, ruffling their hair before sending them off.

They go to Allison’s next. It’s Stiles’ first time at her house and Stiles has no idea how she and Scott managed to make it possible for her to go out of town with them, but Chris is there standing in the doorway like Melissa was, glaring at the Jeep and her occupants as Allison comes down the pathway with her stuff toward the car. Scott gets out immediately and takes everything she’s carrying, and she’s bold enough to kiss him softly and smile at him, which Stiles sees only makes Chris scowl harder. Stiles gets out and once again opens the back for Scott and helps him put everything in, hugging Allison when she opens her arms and dimples brightly. Scott offers her his front seat and opens the door for her like a gentleman, because that’s just who Scott is. She doesn’t call back to her father; it seems like they’ve already said their goodbyes. But Chris does call out to Scott and Stiles.

“Take care of her,” he says more like a threat than anything. Scott and Stiles both nod and promise simultaneously that they will. Then they get in the car and pull away and Scott exhales loudly.

“You did good,” Allison says, reaching back and grabbing his hand. Stiles glances over at them briefly and sees Scott squeeze back.

“Is he ever gonna stop hating me?”

Allison makes a face kind of like she’s just had a sour lemon and it reminds Stiles of Chris all too much. “Would you like me to answer optimistically or realistically?”

Scott groans deeply and hangs his head, getting his answer right there.

“I’m sure he’ll warm up to you eventually,” she says kindly. “If anything, his love for me should outweigh his dislike for you.”

“You can say hatred, Allison, I’m sure we’ve all taken it for what it is.”

Allison rolls her eyes and brings his hand up to her face to kiss it. “He doesn’t hate you, he just—”

“—is trying to protect _you_. Yeah, I got it.”

Stiles feels like an intruder on a private conversation that they’ve probably had a hundred times. They must realize this too and it gets a little awkward for a second before Allison pulls her hand back from Scott and turns up the radio a bit, laughing when she recognizes the song and launching into a story about how it was playing for her and Scott’s first date to the bowling alley. It’s a story Stiles has heard plenty of times already, but it never stops being funny, so he lets Allison tell it and laughs loudly when she gets to the climax, and keeps on driving to Lydia’s house.

Natalie’s not giving Lydia a sendoff like everyone else, but Lydia doesn’t seem broken up about it. Everyone gets out of the car and starts arranging seats as Stiles takes the baggage from Lydia and puts it in the back. Allison and Lydia hug and Lydia teases Scott about his hair looking like that in the mornings when he first wakes up, to which Scott blushes and whines that it doesn’t look _that_ bad, to which the girls laugh and Allison kisses him to make him feel better. Allison and Scott climb into the back and Stiles and Lydia get in the front seat, Stiles drawing Lydia into a conversation about the new theorem she learned and has to tell Stiles about. He might not understand all the technicalities the way she does, but he likes learning and she likes having someone to talk to about her smart stuff, so it’s a win-win for the both of them.

The others are already at Derek’s house when Stiles pulls up, which is only slightly surprising that Danny managed to get Jackson up before nine in the morning, but there are small miracles even Stiles won’t question.

There are only a few too many cars—Boyd drove Erica and Isaac in Erica’s mom’s Tahoe, Danny drove himself and Jackson in the Porsche, Stiles had Scott, Allison, and Lydia in the Jeep, while Kira had just appeared at the Hale House (probably spent the night with Malia, but Stiles isn’t one for gossip, at least that’s what he tells himself) and the others live there, but Derek would probably take the Camaro and they might even need another car—and while there’s room at the beach house, it’s better to only have three or four cars space wise. They elect to leave the Porsche there because it’s the least practical of any of the cars and decide to take Theo’s Jeep instead. Hers isn’t as cool as Roscoe, Stiles hates to admit, but it is a sunny yellow—not bold and ostentatious, but bright and slightly more muted—a newer model that Stiles envies the tiniest bit.

Stiles greets Derek with a kiss because he can and Derek hums and pulls him closer when he tries to pull away, which just makes Stiles laugh.

“There’ll be plenty of time for that at the beach house,” Laura teases as she walks past, grinning brightly. Stiles flips her the bird and she cackles.

When he and Derek do pull away, they head off to get the cars ready. Stiles was right about Derek wanting to take the Camaro, and all his siblings are going to ride with him, so they pack the trunk mostly full of overnight bags. Erica, Theo, and Stiles’ vehicles have more room for the coolers and the snacks and the tons of miscellaneous stuff they seem to acquire.

When everything gets loaded into the cars, Stiles runs into Talia as he’s heading back outside. She smiles and pats his shoulder.

“You all be careful out there. Listen to each other and, most importantly, Laura. She’ll handle anything if it goes wrong.”

“We will,” Stiles promises, praying that nothing will go wrong. He doesn’t doubt Laura’s skills and aptitude, he just doesn’t want to see them have to come into play.

“And have fun,” Talia says with a grin. “You deserve it more than anyone, Stiles.”

Stiles smiles back. “Thanks, Talia.” He pulls her into a hug before she can and she laughs and hugs him back.

“Of course, love.”

Stiles pulls back and tells her goodbye fondly, heading back outside to join the others.

They set off toward the beach house, which is only a couple hours west. Stiles only faintly knows the way, so he follows the others in a line, Erica’s car behind him. Lydia’s sitting in the backseat with Allison now and they’re chatting about people from school and Allison’s latest archery competition. Scott pulls Stiles into a conversation about lacrosse and the time passes quickly amongst them.

+++

The beach house has always been one of Stiles’ favorite places. They admittedly haven’t been there much in recent years, Stiles and his family less than the Hales, but Stiles is of the opinion that they should be here as often as possible, and he’s not even that big of a beach guy, the woods having a more special place in his heart.

The house faintly resembles the Hale House: big with quite a lot of windows and kind of secluded from the neighbors, far enough away where there’s a semblance of privacy without actually being completely on their own. Of course, the Hale House is on its own up in the Preserve, no neighbors or anyone nearby, since no one else is allowed to build in the Preserve. That was Jacob Hale’s policy when he founded the town, that he and his family would have their own place away from the world without being too far away. The beach house is more like a healthy compromise of privacy and community, and Stiles really likes and respects that.

It's all blue siding with white trim, sand caked into the crevices between the wooden boards on the front and back porch, the whole area smelling of sea salt and ocean waves as soon as you get out of your car. Stiles has never bothered counting how many rooms there are inside, which he hasn’t done for the Hale House either to be fair, but he knows it’s enough to easily fit them all, granted some of them would have to double up, but Stiles doubts that’s actually going to be a problem.

When they all park in the garage and the driveway and get out of their cars, everyone’s immediate concern is where they’re going to sleep. Laura organizes it all, sorting them out as everyone decides who they’re going to be sleeping with. They’re all pretty obvious, as the couples split up on their own (Scott and Allison, Erica and Boyd, Danny and Jackson, Cora and Lydia, and even Malia and Kira). Laura and Grant call their own separate bedrooms, as do Theo and Isaac, who Stiles imagines wouldn’t mind sharing if they had to, but given that they have the option not to, neither seem inclined to share a bed. It’s also not a surprise when Laura turns to Derek and he says, “Stiles and I will take my room.”

There’s a chorus of “ooh!”s and Stiles rolls his eyes. Really, they’re all so immature and such dicks. He didn’t do that for any of them when they were pairing off, even though he easily could’ve and wanted to, _especially_ about Cora and Lydia, and Malia and Kira.

He opens the back of the Jeep and starts unloading the stuff, probably way more stuff than is necessary for what’s pretty much just an overnight stay. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” he grumbles, shoving a cooler into Derek’s arms when he gets close enough. Derek chuckles and hands the cooler off, kissing Sties’ head before disappearing with Grant, probably to make sure all the utilities are turned on.

Laura unlocks the house and everyone starts bringing luggage inside, some heading upstairs to pick their room. There’s only one fight and it’s between Scott and Jackson and something about their rooms, but Allison and Danny shut that down rather quickly.

They all unpack in record time, probably because they’re so excited to get in the water, though there’s no doubt it’s still cold this time of year. Stiles finds Derek’s room easily enough, partly because he remembers where it is from years of walking past it, but mostly because it’s the only one covered in battered, well-loved books. Stiles changes into his swim trunks and head downstairs.

The back half of the downstairs is open concept, pretty much just a single room, a large living room taking up one side with a similarly large kitchen on the other. Derek is already on the back porch grilling by the time Stiles gets down, which Stiles has a perfect view to because there’s just a row of windows that show off the incredible view of the beach the Hales have, since it’s pretty much their backyard. But the view isn’t as pretty as his one of Derek, who is wonderfully shirtless and already in his swim trunks, too, and seems to be lost in his own world.

Stiles slips out onto the back porch, where most everybody is lounging around, though some of them have already taken off to the beach, and leans against Derek’s back, reveling in the feeling of their skin pressed together, at least the parts of Stiles’ skin not covered by his shirt. Derek doesn’t seem to react much, probably because he could already sense in all sorts of ways that it’s Stiles.

“That smells great,” Stiles murmurs against his skin, pressing a kiss there. Derek turns a little and Stiles recognizes it as an invitation, pressing forward and kissing his lips, sliding his hand across Derek’s stomach as he leans into him. There’s wolf whistling, but neither of them care. Stiles imagines they’ll keep hearing plenty of that from their friends for at least a few more days if not longer.

After long enough that Stiles has lost count and the wolf whistling has died down, Derek pulls away and says, “The hamburgers are burning,” and sure enough Stiles gets a slight whiff of burning and laughs when Derek flips the burgers and they’re a little more black than they should be.

“You two are one steamy kiss away from fucking on the dinner table,” Lydia calls bluntly from her space on the couch, Cora’s head in her lap. Stiles turns to glare at her and she shrugs, unbothered. The others laugh, especially the Hale girls, and Stiles glares at them, too.

“I’m going inside,” he declares, and Derek just nods, cheeks pink. Stiles does give him a cheek kiss as he goes, and ignores the new round of teasing he gets as he does.

Allison, Isaac, and Kira have made their way to the kitchen when he comes back in and are making sandwiches, chatting easily amongst themselves as they work. Well, while Allison and Kira work, Isaac just talks to them.

“Hey, Stiles,” Kira greets. She extends a sandwich to him, and it’s so reminiscent of just yesterday when he found Talia in the same manner, offering him a sandwich as well. “Are you hungry?”

Stiles shakes his head. “Not currently, but thank you. Do you need help?”

“Do you know how to make potato salad?” Allison asks. “I have a recipe if you need it.”

“I know how. Is there anything special you want me to add, though?”

Allison smiles. “However you make it works! We’re gonna make some macaroni salad, too.”

Stiles gets to work making the potato salad while Allison and Kira finish up the sandwiches. Stiles delegates the responsibility of chopping up celery to Isaac, who seems nervous to be trusted with such a large, sharp object, but he quickly gets the hang of it.

Kira has some top 40’s music playing as they work and keeps stopping to break into song, grabbing the nearest utensil to sing into it like a microphone. She and Allison work on the macaroni salad and keep making Stiles and Isaac test it to make sure they’re getting the spices right because they’re mixing recipes and making bigger proportions than they’re used to and thus need to make sure everything tastes okay, but they eventually work it out and get everything made, putting the salads in the fridge for tomorrow.

They get vegetables and fruits, watermelon and baby carrots and apple slices among other things, and bring it all out with the sandwiches outside, where Derek is finishing putting the burgers together. They set everything down on available tables and people start digging in.

There’s not a ton of seats outside, not nearly as many as there probably should be, and since those who were in the water already have come back in to eat, there’s even less places to sit. Lydia’s now got her legs thrown over Cora’s, Erica’s perched on Boyd’s lap and both of them still dripping from the water, and Allison also winds up on Scott’s lap. Stiles takes a page out of the girls’ book and does the same to Derek, who yelps very, very faintly and so quickly that it sounds more like the beginning of a short, aborted sneeze, before wrapping an arm around Stiles’ waist and focusing back on his food. Stiles tries to hide his smirk, but he really can’t.

There’s more music and chatting and when everyone’s done with lunch, they all decide to head down to the water. Stiles stays behind to clean up, taking everyone’s plates inside and clearing them.

“You don’t have to do that,” a voice says. It’s Derek, Stiles can tell before he even turns around, before Derek opens his mouth, by the bond, by the sound of his voice when he does speak, by something inside of Stiles just instinctually knowing.

“Sure I do,” he replies. Derek comes closer.

“They’re big kids. They can clear their own plates.”

“This is just easier.”

“ _Stiles_.” Derek puts his hands on Stiles’ shoulders and Stiles slows down, but keeps working. “Come join us. Remember this whole thing isn’t about them, it’s supposed to be you and me.”

He does this thing where he speaks with his lips against Stiles’ ear and Stiles shudders as his hands stroke down Stiles’ arms and down his sides, coming to rest on his hips.

“You and me, huh? Since when did you get to be so bold?” Stiles asks, tilting his head and referring to Derek’s open touches, the clear meaning behind them.

“Since you’re here,” Derek murmurs, pressing a kiss to the bolt of Stiles’ jaw, “and you smell like this,” another kiss, lower, “and you look like this,” and another kiss, against his throat. Stiles whimpers without meaning to and grabs at Derek’s hands on his hips.

“Y-you’re gonna have to stop that unless you wanna explain to all those people that you’re defiling me in the kitchen,” Stiles stammers out, turning around in Derek’s grasp and leaning against the counter, pulling Derek against him.

“What is it with you and defiling?” Derek asks before leaning down and capturing Stiles’ mouth with his. His hands wander up Stiles’ torso and Stiles barely even registers it when his shirt is pulled off.

He tries to move his leg in between Derek’s, get a little friction going, but Derek pulls away, breaking the kiss as he goes.

Stiles has to take a good minute to get his breathing under control and stares at Derek, who does not look the least bit ashamed or terribly undone, which Stiles feels like he has to rectify. He reaches out to grab Derek and Derek smirks and backs away.

“Come swim with us,” he says, staying out of Stiles’ reach. He backs up toward the door. “Come on.”

“You’re a tease!” Stiles accuses as he realizes what Derek was doing. “You’re such an asshole!”

“We have the rest of this trip to be just us, so come swim with everyone for now. Swim with me. I’m just showing you what we can do later.”

Stiles throws his T-shirt that fell to the floor—or rather was dropped—at Derek and laughs incredulously. “I can’t believe I fell for that! That was a low blow, Derek!”

Derek laughs and ducks out of the way, the T-shirt not even coming close to hitting him. “Guess you’ll have to make me pay for it, huh?” Derek teases and ducks out the door.

Stiles yells and chases after him.

+++

They spend the afternoon in the sun and water, which is just about as cold as Stiles predicted it would be. Erica teaches Allison and Scott to surf in the water with some of the old surfboards that Hales had in the garage, which of course Allison picks up easily, though Scott does not. Malia, Kira, and Cora build sandcastles on the beach, with Danny and Lydia project managing as Danny sunbathes next to Jackson and Lydia flips through a textbook on particle physics casually. Theo, Isaac, Derek, and Boyd have set up a little game of beach volleyball, though there’s no net, and Stiles finds residence in the sand, calling out the plays in the most annoying way he can. Laura and Grant watch them from the beach chairs planted in the sand, talking amongst themselves.

When Theo gets fed up with Stiles calling shots (because she and Isaac are losing terribly and she calls it favoritism), she picks him up with Isaac’s help and they carry him to the water as he shouts and protests, everyone else laughing. Which leads Danny to drag Jackson to the water, and Malia and Kira, and Cora even convinces Lydia to get her ankles wet. Derek swims over to where Stiles is treading water and grins at him.

“This is what you meant when you said pack bonding, right?” he asks cheekily. Stiles doesn’t think he ever actually said the words “pack bonding” and Derek knows it.

Around them, there’s various screams and shouts as Cora splashes Lydia and Jackson and Danny try to dunk each other. Allison laughs at Scott falling off his surfboard for at least the fifth time in as many minutes, Erica cackling as Boyd and Isaac hang on either side of her surfboard, snickering when Scott tries to get back up. Malia and Kira are having their own diving contest, and even Laura and Grant have gotten in the water and are splashing each other and laughing, and it’s all so chaotic and just everything that Stiles has been craving, the kind of familiarity and warmth that he wants them all to have all the time, surging through them now.

“Something like this,” Stiles agrees with a grin. He swims forward and wraps himself around Derek, kissing him soundly. After a couple of minutes—Stiles thinks, it is very hard to keep track of time when he’s with Derek like this—there’s a sound of pretend disgust and suddenly they’re being splashed by multiple parties.

Stiles pulls away laughing, trying to bat their hands away. Derek chuckles, too, ducking his head and trying to stop all the water.

“It’s like walking in on Mom and Dad having sex,” Erica snickers. Everyone bursts out laughing at that and start adding onto it.

“Aww, pack mom Stilinski and Dad Derek!”

“Alpha Dad Derek—”

“—yelling at his cubs!”

“This is bullying,” Stiles interrupts them and the jeers get worse.

He rolls his eyes and leans in to kiss the grin off of Derek’s face, which results in another round of yelling.

+++

When they finally give up on water for the day, the sun is setting. They put together a bonfire in the sand and bring hot dogs and materials to make s’mores and the alcohol that Jackson and Laura snuck into the cars, one for the humans and one for the wolves and were-creatures.

It’s probably not responsible by any means and Grant chides Laura when he sees the drinks, but they had a hard day yesterday, and a harder couple of weeks before that, so it feels well earned.

It’s not like there’s shots going around, but Stiles definitely drinks more than he probably should, ignoring Jackson laughing at him and calling him a lightweight, leaning back against Derek, happy and satiated.

“This is how the bonfire was supposed to go,” Cora tells them. It’s still a bit of a sore subject, considering how big of a disaster it was and how everyone was affected by it.

Stiles laughs lightly, trying to dissipate any awkward tension. “I think it’s better the second time around,” he says and there’s a collective agreement that follows his statement.

They eventually decided to move the party indoors, safely putting out the fire and cleaning up all the trash before heading inside. The group splits up as some decide to shower first while others lay towels out on the couch and sit on those.

When everyone comes back down, they get on some dumb comedy on the TV that Stiles doesn’t pay much attention to, choosing instead to curl back into Derek’s side, his attention drawn to playing with the hand that’s not wrapped around his shoulder. He’s not drunk, but he’s not sober, probably tipsy and maybe even needing some walking assistance, not that he’d tell Derek that, especially since Derek told him to slow down two beers ago.

Derek himself hasn’t had anything more than one bottle, as far as Stiles has been watching. He did force water on himself and Stiles before the movie started, but that’s long gone now.

The others are faring relatively well as far as Stiles know. Malia and Kira and Isaac all retire halfway through the movie. Cora and Lydia aren’t long after that, then Laura and fifteen minutes later Grant. Danny and Jackson head up thirty minutes before the movie ends. Only Stiles, Derek, Allison, Scott, Erica, Boyd, and Theo stick it out.

They all say goodnight and Stiles and Derek make sure everyone gets water before going up to bed and double checking to make sure the downstairs is locked up and clean, which both Laura and Grant checked before going upstairs, but it’s nice to be sure.

Then Derek herds Stiles up the stairs with two new bottles of water. Stiles trips more than once going up, which leads to Derek guiding him upstairs with a hand on his hip, which Stiles takes as an invitation to lean into the guy.

“Just imagine, this’ll be me and you when we get our own house,” Stiles giggles, swaying into Derek who just catches him and keeps moving them up.

“Me hauling your drunk ass up the stairs every night? What could be more alluring than that?” Derek deadpans. Stiles blindly swats at him and misses, finally reaching the top of the stairs.

“First of all, I’m not drunk. Secondly, I would not drink every night, that’s no fun. Just special occasions. Birthdays and holidays…”

“No offense, but I don’t want to take care of your drunk ass on my own birthday.”

“I’m not drunk!” Stiles whisper-hisses. “Just… Stumble-y.”

“Tipsy,” Derek amends and directs him into Derek’s bedroom.

“Yes!” Derek closes the door behind them and Stiles turns around and grabs his face, kissing him deeply. He snakes a hand down to pull on the laces of Derek’s swim trunks. Derek responds for a half second before he pushes Stiles back lightly.

“While I’m sure you’d consent, you’re not sober,” he says gently. “You’re also covered in sand.”

“You’re cute,” Stiles tells him. “Caring about my consent, that’s sweet. And I would consent. I do consent. I am giving my full consent.”

Stiles tries to lean back in, but Derek laughs and holds him back, probably not even using his werewolf strength and still easily stronger than Stiles, which— _hot_.

“When we do this, I want us both to be completely sober, which I’m sure sober you also wants. Besides, this room isn’t soundproof like my bedroom.”

Stiles groans and then sighs. “Why are you such a good guy, Derek Hale?”

Derek opens his mouth, but Stiles pushes down his swim trunks and all he gets is a strangled yelp from Derek.

“S-Stiles!” Derek hisses, averting his eyes and holding his hand up as a shield.

Stiles snickers and takes off his shirt as well.

“You’re the one who said I’m covered in sand. I’m just going to shower. You’re welcome to join me, if you want. You have my c _onsent_ ,” Stiles says cheekily, throwing in a wink for good measure.

“I hate you,” Derek groans.

Stiles smiles. “I know.”

There’s a bathroom connected to Derek’s bedroom, one that connects to Cora’s bedroom as well. Stiles locks the door so Cora or Lydia won’t be able to come in and leaves the other door into Derek’s room wide open.

He turns on the shower and waits for the water to be a decent temperature before getting inside, sighing when the hot water hits his skin. He takes his time just rubbing water over his skin, trying to get any excess sand off his body first.

He accidentally knocks over one of the bottles on the ledge, but thinks nothing of it, not until he steps on it accidentally and yelps as he slips, nearly braining himself.

Derek is throwing the shower door open right as Stiles steadies himself. He laughs and glances up at Derek, who’s extra concerned expression is slowly melting off his face and turning into something akin to fond irritation.

“You really are the clumsiest person in the world,” Derek grumbles before reaching down and taking off his shorts. Stiles allows himself to openly stare for a moment—and be very envious because of course Derek is slightly superior than him in _that_ department as well—before looking back up at Derek, bewildered.

“Uh—”

“We’re not doing anything other than showering, since you obviously can’t be trusted alone,” Derek tells him, picking up the fallen bottle before stepping into Stiles’ space and closing the door behind him.

“I can’t be held responsible for anything my body does. You’re unfairly gorgeous all over,” Stiles blurts out. Derek’s cheeks turn pink and he huffs, grabbing the shampoo bottle and squirting some into his palm.

“Turn around,” Derek commands and Stiles obeys, a small whimper slipping out.

“This so isn’t fair,” Stiles mutters.

“Call it payback,” Derek replies, smirk evident in his tone.

But Derek is respectful. He puts shampoo in Stiles’ hair and washes it out before doing the same with the conditioner. Then he lets Stiles do the same to him, squatting down a little so Stiles can reach the top of his head. It’s all terribly intimate and familiar, something so mature for them and yet it fits them so well, the way they fit together, understands their nuisances well.

Stiles likes feeling like he’s taking care of Derek, likes feeling like Derek is being taken care of. He imagines Derek has a similar desire, given the way he usually acts around Stiles. It’s nice, something new that works for them, not strictly sexual but just… Intimate.

Washing each other’s bodies with soap is decidedly less intimate in that it’s much more sexually charged, especially between the two of them. Stiles is sure it’s not always sexual and probably is usually more like an intimate thing as well, but with the way they’ve been circling each other, there’s an undeniable sexual component to it.

Hands linger longer than they should, press firmer, trail down further, closer to where it’s unsafe territory because neither of them really know how the other is going to react to that, considering they’ve never been with anyone else or each other like that, though there’s a clear tension that they’re both choosing not to look at.

Derek’s fingers linger on the faint scar on Stiles’ left arm, the one from the nalusa chito swiping at him that first time he was attacked. It’s hardly visible, and you can only really see it if you’re looking for it, thankfully, but Derek spots it rather quickly and takes his time caressing the scar, running his fingers along it and frowning.

“You couldn’t’ve prevented it,” Stiles tells him, swaying forward into his space to catch Derek’s gaze. He knows exactly what Derek is thinking without words, without the bond telling him so from Derek’s dark emotions. Derek glances up at him and Stiles maintains eye contact. “This is not your fault, Derek, you couldn’t’ve stopped it.”

“Had I stayed there another fifteen minutes—”

“It would’ve attacked the both of us,” Stiles concludes.

“But you wouldn’t’ve been _alone_ ,” Derek stresses. Stiles cups Derek’s face in his hands.

“Hey, I wasn’t alone. _You_ found me in the woods. You _saved_ me. I might’ve held it off being all Violet Parr out there, but you’re the one who scared it off and, quite literally, carried me home.”

Derek’s eyebrows soften, and then his eyes and his mouth quickly after, and he pulls Stiles in, kissing him soundly but briefly before pulling away.

They manage to get through the whole thing easily enough, slow, languid kisses being exchanged in the process. Once they’re all free of soap and sand, Derek turns off the water and goes and gets them both towels. He tries to help Stiles out of the shower like Stiles can’t be trusted to walk on his own, and Stiles slaps his hand away. Then he slips on the tile and Derek sighs deeply and escorts him back to the bedroom, making sure Cora and Lydia’s door is unlocked so they’re not locked out of the bathroom in case they try to use it in the middle of the night.

He gets Stiles dried off and helps him into boxers, giving him a T-shirt from his own bag, which makes Stiles smirk proudly before putting it on. Then Derek dresses himself which Stiles watches without shame, and Derek even flexes a couple of times that Stiles knows are deliberate and Derek is trying to kill him with.

When they’re both dressed and ready for bed, and Derek makes both of them drink at least half of their water bottles, Derek gets them under the covers and pulls Stiles against him, kissing him slowly once more before pulling away and saying, “Goodnight, Stiles,” like Stiles is gonna be able to go to sleep after all that.

He huffs and curls into Derek’s side, closing his eyes.

It’s the fastest he’s ever fallen asleep.

+++

When Stiles wakes up, it’s to an empty, cold bed. He stretches out and yawns loudly, sitting up and taking a look at his surroundings. Derek’s not in the room and it doesn’t sound like anyone’s in the bathroom. There are very faint voices coming from downstairs, so Stiles gets up and heads down there.

He sees mostly everybody down there in various states of dress, primarily swimwear and pajamas, and spots Derek, shirtless again, though still wearing his pajama bottoms, cooking eggs on the stove.

He hums and heads over, plastering himself against Derek’s back like usual. “So is this what I have to look forward to the rest of my life?” Stiles asks, pressing a kiss against Derek’s neck.

Derek chuckles and some of the others must hear him, because they start making fake disgusted noises. But neither Stiles nor Derek acknowledge them as Derek turns around and takes Stiles’ face in his hands, says, “Yes,” and kisses him, the same way they’ve been kissing, slow and languid and deeper toward the end. The disgusted noises only increase in volume, as does the smell of burning eggs. So they break up, Derek giving him a smile and turning back to his eggs and Stiles humming and twisting away to shove at the closest person who happens to be Laura and who cackles as he pushes at her, grinning.

They eat breakfast together in the breakfast area, some having to relocate out to the deck or in the kitchen to find somewhere to sit down. When they get out to the water again, Theo takes it upon herself to try to teach Stiles to surf. Derek and Scott and Allison join in, and Derek, Allison, and Theo show off their skills while Stiles and Scott keep falling over and wiping out.

Stiles watches as Derek laughs at something Allison says, leaning back and placing one hand on his stomach like he does when he finds something really funny. Allison laughs along with him, and Stiles is grateful that the two of them have found a sort of common ground and are building a relationship together, in spite of everything Kate’s done to Derek.

Because Allison knew how bad her sister was, but she didn’t know that she had her claws in Derek until far too late, like most everyone else, including Derek’s family and Kate’s own father, Chris. And since then, Allison’s done nothing but show disgust in what her sister did. Derek’s always just held his reservations about the Argents as a whole, but recently he’s been slowly learning how to let go, not forget, but rather move on, which Stiles thinks is really healthy and mature of him and is endlessly proud of him for.

They stay out in the sun until noon, when Derek and Jackson grill chicken and Allison, Kira, Isaac, and Stiles get the potato and macaroni salad and other side dishes. They all eat together again outside, enjoying the sun and the waves.

Some of them head back out to the water for another hour or so, but the rest start packing up and getting ready to leave. Stiles wishes they had been able to stay longer, wishes he could’ve just hidden out there with his pack, his family, with Derek, secluded and away from the world and the problems that come with it.

He knows what’s coming next is going to be hard and tedious. It’s going to require a lot of subterfuge and carefully selected words, watching who he tells which secrets to. He knows there’s probably going to be a fight, a big one, if not multiple. He knows that making it out of this unscathed is going to be tricky.

But he also knows that he has to do this. He has to brave it and go and be strong and tough and lie to who he has to lie to and make nice where he needs to. That comes with the responsibility of being an Emissary, especially being an Emissary to the Great Alpha.

He just has to be continually smarter than his opponent, which, hopefully, won’t be hard to do.

When they get everything loaded up into the cars, Stiles hands Scott the keys to the Jeep and says, “I swear to God, if there’s a scratch on her, I’ll—”

“I know, I know, you tell me this every time,” Scott says with an eye roll before getting serious. “I promise I won’t hurt your baby.”

“Or the precious cargo inside,” Stiles jokes as Cora and Lydia walk past them. Cora flips him off and Lydia gives him major side-eye. Alison, who’s already inside the car but hears everything through the open door, laughs melodically.

“Yeah, okay,” Scott says with another eye roll.

“That includes yourself, buddy. Kiss for good luck?”

Scott pushes Stiles’ face away, laughing.

When he’s sure that Scott will take better care of Roscoe than he does of himself, he gets in the passenger seat of Derek’s Camaro. Laura’s in the back with her headphones on and Grant is typing away on his laptop. It’s probably squished back there, but Laura was kind enough to give up her seat when Stiles expressed his desire about wanting to ride home with Derek.

Derek gets in the driver’s seat and glances in the rearview at his siblings before looking over at Stiles.

“You ready?”

“Let’s kick it,” Stiles says earnestly before humming the melody of _Ice, Ice Baby_. Derek rolls his eyes and buckles his seatbelt before backing out of the garage.

The ride home has a steady conversation flowing about the best Disney movies, which has both Laura and Grant getting into it.

“No, no, _Bambi_ is a classic!” Laura protests.

“I’ve never seen it,” Stiles admits. Laura gasps, affronted.

“How could you not? You literally look like the titular character!”

“Bambi is a deer! A _female_ deer! How do I look like a female deer?”

“Bambi is a _boy_!” Laura and Grant shout simultaneously.

“Oh my God,” Derek mutters under his breath.

Stiles ends up resting his hand on Derek’s thigh at some point throughout the trip, and when he takes it off to turn around and excitedly agree with Laura about how Mulan is the most kickass of the Disney princesses even though she’s not a Disney princess technically (“She saved _all of China_! Like, what more could you ask for?”), and doesn’t immediately put his hand back when he’s calmed down, Derek reaches his hand over and puts it on Stiles’ thigh. Stiles raises an eyebrow and looks over at Derek, but Derek doesn’t seem concerned in the slightest, so Stiles just keeps talking, a couple of times resting his hand on top of Derek’s as he illustrates his point, keeping Laura and Grant laughing and talking animatedly with him.

When they get back to the Hale House and everyone gets out of their cars and starts sorting through the luggage and taking stuff inside to help unpack, they run into Talia and Red, who are sitting in the family room together.

“How was everything?” Red asks, looking up from a crossword. “I trust Laura didn’t burn anything down.”

“I have never once set fire to anything in your presence,” Laura calls as she walks past with boxes of food.

“It’s the ‘in your presence’ part that causes me worry,” Red calls after her. Stiles hears her snort.

“We had a good time,” Erica tells them.

“Derek’s a great chef,” Kira adds.

“He has cooking lessons with Talia, so that’s surprising,” Red muses. Talia elbows him with a smile on her face. Red gives her a fond smile in return. They all know Talia’s kitchen skills are superior. Red just takes special pleasure in getting a rise out of her.

“Well, I’m glad you kids enjoyed yourself, even if it was only for a night,” Talia says, turning her smile on them. “And the house will be there another weekend and all throughout the summer. So long as all your parents are okay with it, you’re welcome anytime.”

There’s a chorus of “Thank you, Mrs. Hale,” and Talia responds with, “Of course,” and they continue unloading the cars and reloading them until everyone is ready to go. There’s hugs all around and then they all take off.

Stiles kisses Derek for a long time at the door, only pulling away when Scott leans out of the window of the Jeep yelling about curfews. Stiles pulls away and promises to text Derek, feeling all too much like the protagonist at the end of a teen romance movie, but Derek indulges him and says, “Okay,” and punctuates it with another toe-curling kiss.

Stiles gets back in his Jeep and sighs deeply and contentedly.

“Good weekend?” Scott asks. Stiles glances in the rearview mirror and sees both Allison and Lydia smirking at him. He glances over at Scott and sees a similar expression, but his spirits are too high to get ruined now.

“Yeah,” he says, putting the car into first gear. “Good weekend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is so fluffy and just like me projecting my feelings. it ended up being way longer than anticipated, so that is my apology for it being late. also: sterek in the shower and being domestic throughout, what could be better than that?
> 
> i'm sorry there's nothing like sex in this, but i just can't make myself write it and also they were drinking so i didn't want anything in that could be misconstrued or seen as dubcon, hence why derek refuses to do anything with stiles (though the want is there, trust you me, i think you can read that in the shower scene and the earlier kitchen scene)
> 
> also, i feel like i don't know how to write the pack lmao like when they are individuals, it's much easier, but it feels weird when they're all together, i'm not sure why. maybe i'm just uncomfortable with writing groups of people ig i don't know
> 
> finally, allison and derek, building a relationship. that and a derek/lydia friendship is all i want out of life. unfortunately, i'm not sure if we'll see much of the latter, but the former i will definitely try to expand upon and show mutual healing!
> 
> thank you all so much for reading and sticking with it! i love you all !!! <333


	29. my heart will be waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He understands the balance that Deaton tries to teach, the push and pull of energy, how it’s meant to flow through him and move within him, so that he may move it out on his own, use it as a weapon, his very own force of nature. He also understands that he can’t always use his spark as some sort of weapon, that a spark is by definition something bright and magnanimous, illuminating and learned. He understands now that his spark is something that he must protect, treat as its own entity because it very much is most of the time, usually playing on his high emotions and coming out then, though it has admittedly gotten better over the last couple of weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: kate argent is talked about in this chapter, it actually heavily deals with her and what she did after the whole talk about lightning bending. in my story, however, she did NOT sleep with derek, though they did kiss and she conditioned him while he was underage and she was older and then an adult. 
> 
> chapter title comes from "moondance" by van morrison

When Stiles is walking to lunch Monday, his head is still up in the clouds. Not only on this past weekend, but on what’s to come and what he needs to prepare for. He needs to meet with Jennifer again today and every day after until either they figure out who this Alpha is, Stiles is ready to take on said Alpha on his own, or something bad happens. Stiles is really hoping the last bit doesn’t happen, but he has to prepare for all possibilities.

He's musing over his situation when two shadows step in front of him and he has the slightest freak out before he realizes they’re just people shadows and not actual shadows.

He glances up and sees the Alpha twins standing in front of him, both with similar expressions of distaste and annoyance. Stiles narrows his eyes in response.

“I thought you two dropped out of school? Too hard for your little brains.”

Aiden—Stiles recognizes, as he’s typically the one to sneer more—does just that and sneers at Stiles.

“We need to talk to you,” Ethan says, trying to be amicable. Stiles can’t fault him for trying, but he’s also not very interested.

“Why would I do that?”

Aiden growls lowly and not very quietly, but the hallway around them is empty as far as Stiles can see. He raises an eyebrow at Aiden’s theatrics. Ethan sighs.

“Maybe we should take this somewhere less exposed,” he says. He gestures toward the nearest classroom. “Come on.”

“Again, why would I do that?”

“Because we have information about the Alpha, you moron,” Aiden bites out. Stiles pauses. Information about the Alpha could be useful, depending on what they know. They’re in Deucalion’s pack, so who’s to say this isn’t a trick. Furthermore, what if the information they’re spreading is false? The Alpha twins never liked Stiles anyway, so why tell him info now? What would they ask in return?

“Lead the way,” Stiles tells them, and when they turn their backs, he pulls out his phone and sends a quick text to Derek about what’s happening and where he is, giving him explicit instructions not to get too close because the Alphas would definitely know. He sends the message and pockets his phone and feels a tight sensation pull across the bond a couple seconds later, Derek’s worry and discomfort seeping through, most likely with the situation. Stiles sends a reassuring wave back and follows the twins into the classroom.

Surely they’re not going to try to kill him or something. They wouldn’t be that brazen to try it in a public location, Stiles is pretty sure. And if they do, he’ll use what he knows and strike back against them and hopefully it’s enough to defeat an Alpha, at least one of them, or stall them until Derek and the others can get there.

Aiden stands straight beside Ethan while Ethan leans against one of the counters. It’s a lab classroom and there’s a distinct smell of whatever it was they were dissecting in here the period before. It’s incredibly unappetizing and makes Stiles’ growling stomach stop immediately.

“You guys shouldn’t have done what you did at the trial,” Ethan says, arms crossed over his chest.

“Look, if you came here to threaten me or—” Stiles starts, but Aiden cuts him off.

“We’re not threatening you, dumbass. We’re telling you the truth. What you did that night was stupid.” Stiles thinks that’s funny because he technically didn’t even do anything or know about the plot to do something. “And Deucalion’s out for blood now.”

“Okay, first of all, how was that stupid? All we did was provide evidence?”

The twins both snort. “He knows that wasn’t Satomi, he just can’t prove it,” Ethan says.

“Then how does he know?”

“He strongly suspects,” Aiden growls. “You’re not even listening to us. We’re trying to warn you.”

“See, now that’s just suspicious. Why would you try to warn me? You guys don’t like me and you don’t like humans in wolf packs on top of that, so—”

“But you’re not exactly human, are you?” Aiden says with a raised eyebrow, like he’s trying to make a point.

“Look,” Ethan sighs, holding a hand out to stop his brother from making comments, “No, we don’t really like you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“But Deucalion is not a good guy and… If we can save someone else, then maybe it’ll be worth it.”

Stiles blinks. This is it, he thinks. “What are you talking about?”

“Deucalion’s a collector. He likes rare things, like Aiden and me. He’s the one who showed us how to turn from the Omegas of our pack to the Alphas, how to share the Alpha spark.”

Stiles has heard Deucalion called a collector before, and he still doesn’t fully comprehend it. But maybe that’s just because he’s not crazy like Deucalion. It’s hard to understand a madman.

“He taught you how to become Alphas by murdering your entire pack,” Stiles clarifies, because how else would an Omega rise to an Alpha if not by murdering the current Alpha? And if the pack was unruly? If they didn’t bow to the new Alpha, or Alphas, in this case, why not just murder them too? There could be a chance they didn’t, but then again it’s Deucalion, and if he’s really as power hungry and crazy as everyone claims he is, then it makes sense he would make Aiden and Ethan kill the rest of the pack, or rather those who didn’t change alliances. Or he would kill them himself, Stiles supposes that’s entirely possible.

“Yeah, we did,” Aiden agrees, confirming Stiles’ suspicions. “We murdered all of them for some power and the Alpha shift and now we’re dancing monkeys in Deucalion’s freak show.”

“Our Alpha shift is a party trick now, and we’re not allowed to grow stronger than Deucalion,” Ethan says. “He fears us when we’re together because of how powerful we are together, but the need to have rarities like us outweighs the risk for him. Look, we’ve done a lot of bad things in our lives, but… Maybe if we can stop anyone else from being… _Collected_ , it’ll slowly make up for it.”

“And if we can prevent Deucalion from reaching a position of power like the Great Alpha, that would be preferred, too,” Aiden adds. “And our luck is starting to run out.”

Those poker terms Peter gave him such a long time ago kind of make sense again. Deucalion is a shark, in all senses of the word, looking for blood in the water. He caught the scent with Aiden and Ethan and he’s hunting again.

Stiles holds up his hands. “Wait, wait, wait, I don’t get it. What about Kali, and Ennis, for that matter?”

“What about them?” Aiden replies. Ethan shakes his head.

“Kali and Ennis follow blindly after Deucalion because they know he currently holds the most power in their little trio, especially since Deucalion has two Alphas—Aiden and I—bending to his will. Ennis kind of just does what he’s told and isn’t that big of a problem, definitely more muscles than brains, but Kali does what she wants and she wants to be the Great Alpha. She’s just working under Deucalion until she can get there. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had her own thing set up.”

Yeah, like turning Stiles’ friends, if she is the one doing that. It seems like Ennis is unlikely to do so, given what Ethan said about him. Deucalion is a strong contender, too, wanting to build his pack and mark his territory on the citizens of Beacon Hills, thereby asserting his dominance while undermining Talia’s. That would be a good reason, but so is Kali’s. He also doubts Aiden and Ethan were up to all this biting; he’s not sure, of course, but for some reason, something within him doubts it.

It's not like he trusts them suddenly, because he definitely doesn’t. But he wants to believe that what they’re saying is true, wants so badly to have a neat little answer that wraps everything up and presents a clear solution. Deucalion being the one biting people and “collecting” people, though Stiles still doesn’t entirely understand what that means, it makes a lot of sense. So does Kali and Jennifer having an alliance. But there are discrepancies in each scenario that don’t entirely make sense.

Of course, there’s the competing Alphas theory as well, but Stiles holds stock in that one the least.

“So… You’re ratting your boss out to me because, what, he’s more mad for power than you originally anticipated and now you suddenly want to protect people?” Stiles tries to clarify.

“It goes in one ear and out the other with you, doesn’t it?” Aiden sneers, taking a half step forward. Stiles stands his ground and Ethan’s hand shoots out to stop him in his tracks.

“Cool it,” he growls to his brother before looking back at Stiles. “Look, you can believe us or not, that’s up to you. We did our part.”

Ethan gestures to Aiden who sighs in annoyance before walking past Stiles and heading to the door. Ethan goes to follow him, but Stiles calls out to him.

“Hey, wait!” Ethan stops and turns around. “Why didn’t you tell Deucalion or anyone that Derek and I are mates? Because we haven’t heard anything, but you guys found out before break, didn’t you?”

Ethan shrugs. “It didn’t seem that important. I mean, Deucalion would probably kill to know that you two are mates. But Aiden and I could care less. Don’t think we were doing you a favor. He’ll probably be twice as mad once he actually finds out. You better pray that someone else tells him though, otherwise he’ll take out his worst anger on you.”

Ethan makes a move to leave again before turning around one last time.

“I just hope you know what you’re doing when you stand against him. Because he’s pissed, Stiles, and he won’t forget what you’ve done. He’ll be coming after you soon.”

And with that, Ethan leaves, shivers erupting all over Stiles’ body at the warning. He stands there for a moment, the words replaying in his mind, before he sighs, heading out of the classroom and to the cafeteria.

“Stiles,” Derek says as soon as he sees him. Stiles collapses in the seat next to him and sighs, running a hand through his hair. “What happened?”

“We need to have a talk about the Alphas,” Stiles tells their group as a whole. Everyone’s attention is turned on him, Derek pressed close against his side. “The twins told me something interesting, and I don’t know if it’s real or not, but it’s something to consider.”

“Care to elaborate?” Erica asks, leaning in over her tray of what vaguely looks like macaroni and cheese, but could also be cheesy potatoes. It weirds Stiles out either way.

“Not here,” Stiles says with a shake of his head. “Tonight. The Hale House. We need to talk with Talia.”

Everyone nods and gives their collective agreement before turning back to their meals. Stiles remarks how odd it is how not too long ago, he sat at this table with just Theo, Scott, Allison, and occasionally Malia, Lydia, Cora, Isaac, Danny, and Jackson, though they almost all drifted in between several tables frequently. Derek had Erica and Boyd on his own, usually Isaac, maybe Cora or Malia sometimes, too, but always was separated from the group, from the pack, who, of course, wasn’t too much of a pack back then. But almost dying together does that to you. And they’ve grown since then, so much so that Stiles can barely recognize them anymore.

Scott is a strong and adorkable werewolf who spends his afternoons either with Allison or down helping Deaton out at the clinic. Lydia is more sure of herself than ever, and in a much more quietly confident sort of way than anything. Jackson’s less of a douchenozzle though that’s probably a result of Danny’s continued presence, Kira’s been added to the group thus making Malia more excitable and happy, and Allison and Derek can stand to be in the same room with each other and even openly speak to each other on occasion.

And Stiles and Derek… How far they’ve come. They’re completely different and yet somehow exactly the same. Stiles wouldn’t ask for it any other way.

He steals a baby carrot from Derek’s lunch, who shifts the container closer to Stiles in response. Stiles hums appreciatively and presses himself firmer against Derek’s side. Derek just presses back without complaint.

+++

When everyone gets to the Hale House and gathers in Talia’s office, Stiles takes a big breath and lets it out before beginning. He can already feel a headache forming.

“I talked to Peter,” he announces, “and he said that while he doesn’t know who the Alpha is, he has theories on who it might be. Basically, he named either Deucalion or Kali as the prime suspect. He immediately dismissed Talia and Satomi, and I assume wasn’t concerned about, including himself, and wrote Ennis off as basically not being able to do much of anything. He also didn’t seem too swayed about the twins.”

“Well, what did they say?” Derek asks.

“They think Deucalion is our guy. They call him a ‘collector’ and say he collects rare things like the twins themselves.”

“I’ve heard that term before,” Talia says, sitting up straighter. “It’s mostly rumors, but I could look around and see what I can find out about that.”

“That would be much appreciated,” Stiles tells her earnestly. “As for Kali, the twins don’t really think she’s involved, at least not like Deucalion.”

“But Jennifer is her Emissary,” Scott points out.

“Emissaries aren’t strictly bound to their Alphas,” Derek explains. “An Emissary has as much free will as the rest of us, they just typically tend to do their Alpha’s bidding because it’s what they want to do or because their Alpha forces them. Jennifer is most likely an exception to the rule.”

“So it could be Deucalion and Jennifer working together?” Kira asks.

“If Deucalion is the Alpha, I don’t think he and Jennifer would be working together. I think they both saw an opportunity and decided to go for it,” Theo says.

“That’s if Deucalion is the Alpha,” Scott notes. “If Kali is the Alpha—”

“—then she and Jennifer have hatched up some scheme together to make their move,” Allison finishes. “And they must have some plot to overthrow both Talia and Deucalion, then.”

“But we don’t know anything,” Stiles adds. “Which is why we have to monitor Kali and Deucalion closely. I’m not saying go stake out where they’re staying or anything, but just keep your eyes and ears peeled. I’m going to continue working with Jennifer and see if I can get anything out of her. What happened at the trial, it messed with their plans. We need to figure out what exactly their plans entail.”

“And you have some elaborate scheme for that?” Lydia asks.

“Just staying vigilant. Until we have more to go off of, that’s the best I’ve got,” he admits solemnly. “Especially those bitten, be wary.”

“Sounds fair enough,” Scott concludes, clapping his hands together. He takes a look around the room and sets a determined look on his face. “Mario Kart anyone?”

Stiles knows he’s just posturing and trying to act like this all isn’t as big of a deal as it is, trying to take charge and be the leader and make sure no one is too worried. He and Derek let him, watch as the others agree to video games and head out of the study with the warning fresh in their minds. Talia stays behind and sets to start working on her computer and the meeting concludes for the time being.

+++

When Stiles goes to see Jennifer that night, he notes that there’s something slightly off about her. Not strictly in a bad way, but she watches him more closely, eyes lingering for longer than they normally do, longer than Stiles is comfortable with. It’s not like he can tell her to stop staring exactly, or ask what she’s looking for, so he says nothing and watches her watch him as slyly as he can.

“How was your vacation?” she greets as he sets up their lesson for today.

“Oh, it was great,” Stiles tells her cheerily. Her eyes narrow slightly and Stiles gives his best innocent face.

“Where exactly did you go again?” Jennifer phrases it like a question she’s genuinely interested in knowing because she’s forgotten the answer, but Stiles can hear the slight accusation laced in with her words.

“To my aunt Wanda’s beach house, down near Laguna Beach,” he answers. He’s prepared for her to ask these questions and thus had made sure he knew what to say if she asked. “Just us and a couple of friends.”

“Oh, right. I forgot,” Jennifer smiles.

She flips through her journal casually, except that she’s turning the pages a little too tersely, enough so that she’s almost ripping them. Stiles pretends not to notice.

“Did you know he was going to do that?” Jennifer asks, the tension seeping into her tone. Stiles glances up at her, not knowing where the conversation has suddenly turned.

“Did I know who was going to do what?”

“Derek,” she says, sounding slightly exasperated. “Did you know he was going to pull out those photos and use them in the trial?”

Stiles hesitates, because he isn’t sure the safest path here. He could say he did and Jennifer would probably get mad. He could say he didn’t and Jennifer might still find a way to get mad. It’s like trying to find the safest path to walk on glass, you’re bound to get hurt one way or another.

“I didn’t,” he answers truthfully. He looks up to gauge her expression. It’s currently neutral, so he keeps going. “I know that Laura likes photography, but I didn’t know that they had taken those pictures or were planning to use them in the trial. They don’t tell me anything.”

Jennifer gets a contemplative expression on her face. “I suppose they don’t, huh?” She hums and nods her head. “You and I are always on the outside, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, for sure. That’s why we have to stick together.”

Jennifer breaks into a bright smile, nodding her head.

“Yes, precisely,” she agrees.

“You… Um, you looked upset after the trial. Deucalion and the Alphas, too.”

Jennifer sighs. “The trial didn’t go the right way. It was supposed to be just and fair, and your _mate_ ruined everything.”

Stiles feels his heart leap into his throat. “Surely you don’t mean that everyone is mad at him?”

Jennifer laughs and shakes her head. “Well, don’t give a shit about him now. After all that he’s done to you?”

Stiles feels the anger rise in him, but bites it down. “No, I don’t, but just because I don’t like or trust him doesn’t mean I want him hurt.”

“Oh, Deucalion would never hurt him,” Jennifer says, rolling her eyes and waving a dismissive hand. “He’s just understandably mad. If I was Derek, I would watch my back. You too, Stiles.”

“Wh-what?”

“Deucalion is convinced you were a part of it.”

“Well, can’t you try to convince him otherwise?”

Jennifer gives him a pitying expression. “I’ve tried. He just won’t listen to me. But don’t worry, I won’t let him hurt you.”

Stiles is sure she won’t, considering it would interfere with her plans to bleed him like a pig. But if Derek is in trouble…

“You’re sure Deucalion won’t hurt Derek?” he asks. Jennifer narrows her eyes slightly.

“Why are you so concerned?”

Stiles shrugs. “I just keep thinking of all the problems it would cause for Deucalion. Talia wouldn’t trust him and would be hypervigilant for who knows how long. It would create a lot of problems for everybody, especially those who want to be unaffected by pack politics. They would get dragged into the mix.”

Jennifer thinks this over for a moment before humming, tucking the journal under her arm, and clapping her hands together.

“Well, you may have a point there,” she amends. “Perhaps I’ll try to talk sense into Deucalion once again, make sure he understands the gravity of the situation. I’d hate for there to be a skirmish, or anything.”

“I agree,” Stiles says and straightens, dusting his hands off. “Shall we get started?”

Jennifer smiles at him and nods. “First, I want you to close your eyes and clear your mind. Try to imagine you’re in an open field, a clearing. You want to be as blank and open as possible.”

Stiles takes a deep breath before shutting his eyes and following her instructions.

+++

“You heard what she said, right?” Stiles asks into the phone as he scrubs the dishes. “About Deucalion coming after you. See, this is why I told you that you should’ve told me. Do you know how dangerous—”

“Yes, Stiles, I’m abundantly aware,” Derek breathes. “Nice touch telling her you don’t like or trust me.”

“Shut up, you know how I feel about you.” There’s a huff from Derek’s end of the line. “I’m just concerned.”

“She said she’d talk to Deucalion.”

“Yeah, somehow she’s become my biggest ally and number one enemy all in one fell swoop. She’ll protect me from other threats because she wants to be the one to kill me.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Derek growls. Stiles rolls his eyes.

“Well, I should hope not. That’d be real awkward after the big game I’ve been talking.”

“Stiles,” Derek grinds out, frustration evident. “You have to take this more seriously.”

“Oh, you mean as seriously as you’re taking the threat from Deucalion?”

Stiles knows he’s being a cheeky dick. Derek knows it, too. Stiles hears him sigh deeply.

“Fine. I see your point.”

“Look, I’m just trying to make sure everybody is safe. That includes me and you.”

“I know,” Derek tells him. “I just… I wish we had more to go off of than Deucalion wants to hurt me and potentially you. It’s practically an admission of guilt.”

“Yeah, Deucalion is looking more and more like our prime suspect,” Stiles agrees. “But we should still double check and make sure Kali isn’t doing anything… _Nefarious_ as well. And we said we’d look into the Emissaries, remember that?”

“We can. It shouldn’t be too hard to meet with them.”

“In the meantime, I’ll keep working with Jennifer and see if she drops something else interesting.”

“Okay, sounds good. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Lots of kisses!” Stiles chirps cheerfully. He hears Derek’s quiet, “Oh my God,” and then the line goes dead. He chuckles and tucks his phone back in his pocket, turning to start on the pots and pans.

+++

Stiles keeps working with Jennifer, going and seeing her every night. She teaches him more and more advanced things each session, and he goes from the Nemeton to his house, gets in his car, and drives to the vet clinic, sitting down and telling Deaton everything he’s just learned and having Deaton look over it and correct his forms if need be. Then Deaton gives him his own lesson, usually about controlling the spark internally so that he can manipulate the environment externally, stuff Sties would have claimed all bullshit before, but now knows just how important it really is.

He understands the balance that Deaton tries to teach, the push and pull of energy, how it’s meant to flow through him and move within him, so that he may move it out on his own, use it as a weapon, his very own force of nature. He also understands that he can’t always use his spark as some sort of weapon, that a spark is by definition something bright and magnanimous, illuminating and learned. He understands now that his spark is something that he must protect, treat as its own entity because it very much is most of the time, usually playing on his high emotions and coming out then, though it has admittedly gotten better over the last couple of weeks.

The spark is like the lightning bending Zuko and some of the other benders did in Avatar, transporting a current of energy through you and releasing it back into the world. He probably could literally release lightning if he so tried. But sparks are different than druids because druids don’t have energy moving through them that they can manipulate. They can only manipulate the energy around them. Sparks are both, through and around, and that’s why they’re so powerful in terms of magic users, Stiles has come to find out. Sparks are also very rare because it takes a lot of strength and durability to be able to move such raw, powerful energy through yourself. Druids can’t do everything sparks can do, but sparks can do everything druids can do and more.

It's interesting, Stiles thinks. All the posturing Jennifer has been doing and she can’t even touch the kind of magic that Stiles can. And maybe she knows it, maybe that’s why she’s so weird with him, why she feeds off him being in this weaker role than him. But maybe she’s just like that with everybody, likes them to be weaker and naïve. It’s most likely a power trip, he thinks, sort of like what Kate did with Derek.

Which is something he’s never thought about before, but Jennifer has a lot of Kate-like qualities that never really added up before. The sneaking around with younger boys, the acting interested in order to get what they want, it all kind of adds up. Not that Stiles is comparing his situation to Kate and Derek’s at all, because what she did, from what Stiles knows, was fucked up beyond belief, but he could see where there are similarities between them.

And, to be fair, Stiles doesn’t actually know that much about Kate’s situation. He knows what little bits of information from what Derek has told him, but he never got it all.

It’s this level of thinking that leads him to Peter one day, sitting in his usual spot in the library, playing himself in chess.

“Do you know any other games or do you just really have a hard on for chess?” Stiles asks, taking a seat opposite of him.

Peter raises an eyebrow and glances up at Stiles before turning back to his game, moving a pawn into place and capturing it just as swiftly.

“Good afternoon to you, too, Stiles. Shouldn’t you be off somewhere tying tongues with my nephew?”

Stiles scrunches his face up. “That one was just plain gross. But no, if you must know, he thinks I’m getting snacks currently. I wanted to talk to you.”

“Surely about something worth my time,” Peter says blandly. Stiles doesn’t think he’s in a position to so snarky after all he’s done, but he needs answers more than he needs to yell at Peter right now.

“Kate Argent,” Stiles says, and Peter looks up again in interest.

“Why do you care about her?”

“I care about Derek and what she did to him.”

“Was this issue not resolved? Has he not told you everything? I’m not sure what more wisdom I could impart.”

Stiles sighs. “He told me that she started talking to him when he was young, just little things at first. That lead to them driving around late at night when he was like fifteen. Then something happened and they kissed, I think, and she told Derek that, um…” He’s not sure if he should be spilling this so candidly to Peter, who he’s still not really trusting right now anyway.

But Peter just sighs and moves a rook and says, “That no one would ever love a monster like him, not even his mate?”

Stiles blinks. That last part about the mate is new, but Derek was sort of playing fill in the blanks at the time, not that Stiles could blame him. But he nods.

“Yeah, that’s about it.”

“Derek was fifteen-years-old when he kissed Kate,” Peter says, moving more pieces around. “He told you about it. She’d been coming on to him since he was twelve and she was sixteen. She had been warping his mind and playing on his self-esteem issues. The night they kissed, however, she had done something to mimic the smell of Derek’s mate, of you. That, coupled with all the mind work she had already done on him, was why he kissed her. And he told me that as soon as he did, he pulled away in disgust because he realized it wasn’t you, that it didn’t feel right.

“When he came home that night, he was so distressed. He ran past me and up to his bedroom and locked himself in there. So I went and I coaxed him into opening the door and telling me everything that happened, and he told me about all of it, since the beginning. He was so wracked with guilt because he felt as though he’d ‘cheated’ on his mate, and he became so angry and sullen and withdrawn because of it, not listening to a word of what I said. He pulled further and further away from you because he said he thought he didn’t deserve you, that he was a true monster, just like Kate said.”

Stiles takes a second to process this. He opens his mouth to speak, but Peter keeps talking.

“There hasn’t been a single person that Derek has ever wanted more than he wants you, not even that cute girl Paige from seventh grade, who Derek always loved to watch play cello, but not nearly as much as he loves watching you play video games, or do just about anything else. If you’re here to see how deep his affections run, I can assure you that it’s deep.”

“That’s not why I’m here. I’m here for Derek. I wanted to know… There were things he was scared to tell me, it seemed. Stuff he was holding back. Like he didn’t tell me that she said ‘mate’ and he didn’t tell me she had something of mine, which—how did she have something of mine? That’s so _creepy_ —”

“Yes, yes,” Peter says with a wave of his hand. “I assume Derek was refraining from telling you that because he didn’t want you to know just how head-over-heels he’s been for you this whole time. Or for you to think what happened with Kate was your fault.”

Well, Stiles wasn’t thinking that before, but _now_ … Ugh, talking to Peter is always a headache, he doesn’t know why he does this.

“I guess… That’s all I needed to know,” Stiles says. It’s probably more than he needed to know and a new worry to add to the list, but whatever. He stands up and makes to leave, but Peter’s voice stops him.

“You know it’s not, right?”

“What?” Stiles turns to look at Peter. His face betrays nothing.

“It’s not your fault that she used your scent to trick Derek. Just like it’s not Derek’s fault that he was tricked and conditioned. Kate Argent is a horrible person who did terrible things and will have a lasting impact on Derek for what will probably be a few years of his life, if not a good chunk of it. If I had any say, I would tear her throat out after ripping her limb from limb.”

Peter says this all with a calm demeanor, expression unchanging, like it’s more a fact he knows rather than his vicious murder plans. But Stiles thinks he’d be just as calm talking about his own murder plans for Kate, so he can’t really blame him.

“Oh,” Stiles says eloquently. “Um, thank you.”

Peter nods once before he’s completely lost and absorbed back in his game. Stiles takes that as his cue to leave.

He exits the library and is immediately accosted by Laura in the hall, who tries to put on a pensive face like she wasn’t just listening in.

“What did you hear?” Stiles asks, getting straight to it.

Laura sighs. “Everything? Super hearing, kinda cursed with it.”

“Wish the library was soundproof…” Stiles mumbles. Laura laughs lightly and nods, rubbing the back of her neck in an uncharacteristic gesture.

“You know she used to call him, after the first kiss. She called him and would taunt him and hang up, and he never told us what she said, but any time his phone rang he freaked out and would go still or run out of the room with his tail between his legs. I overheard a conversation once. She threatened to burn our house down with us trapped inside.”

“Jesus Christ,” Stiles breathes, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought.

Laura nods solemnly. “It was a lot. I don’t know why she stopped, or why she even called in the first place. Who knows why she did half the shit she did?” Laura sighs, resigned. “And after everything she’s still affecting him. Though, you know, what pulled him out both times was you.”

Stiles looks at her. “What?”

Laura smiles and reaches out, running her nails through Stiles’ hair and brushing behind his ear, the way you would tuck long hair behind someone’s ear, in a loving and maternal gesture.

“The first time, you kept bugging him. Calling and texting and wanting to go see some Batman movie that just came out. Scott was in Texas or New Mexico or wherever Melissa’s family was living at the time, and you and Derek were closer than either of you liked to admit. You blew up his phone for days, but I’m not sure he ever answered any of your calls, not until at least a week had gone by of you being persistent. But then he went out with you and when he came home that night, he was… Different. She kept calling for at least another two weeks, but he seemed a lot less bothered by it after he went to the movies with you. I guess something you said or did had an impact on him.”

Stiles remembers that, going to the movies then. He remembers the movie and going with Derek, but nothing in his mind sticks out as special. It was just another movie with Derek, something they’d done a hundred times.

“I don’t remember saying anything special, or doing anything special, for that matter,” he admits. Laura’s smile turns sweeter, her gaze softening a little.

“Well, it was probably just being with you that made him feel better,” she tells him. Stiles tries and probably fails to fight off a blush. “You’re special all by yourself.”

“You almost make that sound like an insult,” he says mainly to draw attention away from himself. Laura laughs.

“Oh, it definitely can be,” she teases back. Then she smiles softly. “And again, you’ve fixed him.”

“I’m a werewolf whisperer,” he declares.

“You’re a Derek whisperer,” Laura decides. Stiles huffs a laugh and shrugs.

“Yeah, that’s probably more accurate.”

“Thank you for being there for him,” Laura says quietly, staring directly at him. “He’s had a lot of people give up on him before and there’s only so many times you’ll listen to your family, you know? You’re more than just his mate, Stiles, you’re his friend, and I know he’s grateful for you. We all are. Time and time again, when we’ve thought we’ve lost him, you’ve brought him back, occasionally before we even know there’s an issue. You’ve given us Derek.”

“ _You_ gave _me_ Derek. He wouldn’t be who he is without you.”

“Or you. Don’t discredit yourself. We’re all in this together.”

“What’s with your family and quoting Disney produced movies to me? I feel like you’re all in on it.”

Laura laughs loudly, more of her signature cackling laugh than anything. “We absolutely are. We have secret meetings to find the most perfect quotes and work them into conversations naturally. The whole point of this conversation was for me to say that one specific line to you, nothing else mattered.”

“It makes sense,” Stiles says, and Laura’s face softens again.

“I’m serious, though, Stiles. Thank you. You have no idea how incredible you are,” Laura says with a distinct weight behind her words.

“I—you—thank you,” Stiles settles on. Laura smiles at him for another second before opening her mouth to say something else, but then Derek comes around the corner and sees them.

“Where’d you go?” Derek asks, looking between them odd and coming to stand next to Stiles. Laura smiles and steps forward, wrapping her arms around Stiles.

“I kidnapped him for a quick minute. Don’t worry, no harm came to him under my careful watch,” she says with a vicious grin. Derek rolls his eyes.

“That’s an anomaly. Usually you break your charges.”

“Only the breakable ones.”

“Disney produced quote,” Stiles notes. Laura laughs and releases him, pressing a red kiss to his forehead, definitely leaving a mark. She pushes Stiles away gently.

“You caught me,” she smiles. She gestures toward Derek. “Keep him outta trouble, will ya, Stiles? He has a habit of self-martyring for no good goddamn reason.”

Stiles smiles and looks over at Derek before slinging an arm around his middle. “Don’t worry. I got him.”

Derek’s cheeks tint red and Laura makes a cooing noise before reaching forward and kissing Derek’s forehead, too. Derek makes a noise of discomfort and swats at her, his other arm coming to wrap around Stiles’ shoulders.

“You’re disgusting, Laura,” Derek grumbles, wiping fruitlessly at his forehead.

Laura laughs and shoves at him. “Go. Get Stiles to your room safely so you can ravish him.”

Derek’s blushing gets worse and Stiles laughs and takes pity on him, pulling him toward the door. “Come on, let’s go. I need a big strong werewolf to protect me.”

Derek hisses, “Stop it!” while Laura’s cackles follow them out the room.

When they get upstairs and they get settled on Derek’s bed—with Derek’s back to his headboard and his legs stretched out in front of him and Stiles sitting on the other side, staring at him—Stiles finds that he wants to say something, but doesn’t know what to say.

He wants to ask Derek if what everyone else said was true, if Derek has liked him that deeply for all that time, if when he kissed Kate, and why he kissed her, was it because he thought he was kissing Stiles himself. He wants to tell Derek that Kate is so awful of a person that Stiles, for once in his life, finds himself lacking words to describe her monstrosity (again, Hunchback of Notre Dame, who is the monster and who is the man?).

Because how dare she call Derek a monster? Derek? He’s the furthest thing from a monster. Derek is all good intentions wrapped up in awkwardness and wanting to do the right thing for everybody as often as he can but usually not knowing how to execute that. He’s carrying you through the woods because you’re barefoot and were just attacked by a shadow monster. He’s bringing you chicken nuggets on Tuesday. He’s laughing when you fall off a surfboard and then showing you the proper way to stay on.

Monsters aren’t always monsters. Sometimes it’s the people who look the least like monsters who are actually monstrous because of their actions. Kate Argent is a prime example of that.

Sometimes what we call monsters are actually the furthest thing from the word. Sometimes words are misleading, sometimes definitions are skewed.

Derek Hale might be a monster by definition, but not by action. Not by word, not by duty, not by thought.

Stiles wishes he could just say that, but he doesn’t know how without making this weird.

Presumably, Derek didn’t overhear, or he’s just pointedly ignoring what he did hear. If that’s the case, Stiles doesn’t want to introduce this into his mind or force Derek to think about it. So he can’t say that he’s sorry that he can’t burn away the memories that Kate Argent left seared into his mind, wipe away the threats and phone calls she left, give Derek back his childhood innocence, tell Derek everything he feels.

So instead he sighs and lays down, resting his head in Derek’s lap. Derek, who already has a book in hands, holds it away so he can look at Stiles.

“What are you doing?” Derek asks, peering at him.

“I just—” He almost says the l-word, and had he already said it before in a different context, he would’ve said it again now. But he hasn’t and he doesn’t want the first memory of the word to be sullied with the memory of Kate Argent and what she put Derek through. It doesn’t need to be special, necessarily, but it needs to be said in a better place than right now, because right now feels too tarnished and somber, and words like that are words you’re careful with, especially when dealing them out for the first time.

Love is not finite, Stiles knows this. Just because you give it out does not mean you will eventually run out of it. But he also knows that some things are just special, especially when it’s the first time. He doesn’t want the first time he says, “I love you,” to Derek to be in wake of him learning the truth about Kate. He wants his first time saying, “I love you,” to be when he least means to say it, when it just comes pouring out of him, stumbling around and wondering _how they hell did that happen_? He wants it to be because Derek is deserving of love in every way, especially the little ones that are often overlooked. Like turning on Stiles’ favorite movie like it’s second nature, like washing Stiles’ hair when he’s drunk because he’s too worried Stiles will fall if he tries to do it himself and not only not expecting sex, but specifically telling Stiles that that is not happening unless they’re both sober and consenting. Like writing back in the margins of books, like beating himself up for leaving Stiles alone to fight the nalusa chito when Stiles wasn’t even alone for very long anyway.

There’s been so many times where Stiles has thought it, pushed in the back of his mind and desperately aching to claw its way out and surface. So many times when Stiles thought that maybe he’d just let it slip out and see what happened, not ask or expect Derek to say it back, but just say it because it’s what he felt the strongest. Even before he was using the word in his head, Stiles knew he loved Derek. It’s been one of those gradual things, but once that first thought pops into your head—the _shit, is this love_?—then everything else is second nature. Love comes first, pushing its way to the forefront of Stiles’ mind and demanding a seat at the table until Stiles had no choice but to relent.

Now it’s invaded Stiles’ breath and thoughts, taking over like a virus, sweeping into his cities and kingdoms, crashing down gates and flooding streams until all his thoughts are cyclones of how much he loves Derek Hale, how he’d do anything for him, slay any monster, fight any villain. It’s love that’s controlling him now, and because of love that he won’t ruin this moment for the two of them. Because Derek deserves to be told that he’s loved every day of his life, deserves to be praised and sought after and fought over.

But not like this. Stiles will tell Derek he loves him, but in a different breath, a different setting.

That doesn’t mean he won’t stop from pushing the feeling through the bond, letting it encompass Derek and surround him like a cuddly octopus, latching on for dear life. He pushes his feelings through the bond and hears Derek’s little intake of breath as he receives them.

“I wish we had figured it out a lot longer ago,” Stiles admits quietly. He feels Derek’s regret leak through and smooths it over mentally with his fingers as best he can, like he’s smoothing out a tablecloth. “’Course, there probably would’ve been a lot more screaming matches if that were the case. I was a rascally twelve-year-old.”

Derek huffs a laugh and drops his hand into Stiles’ hair, playing with the strands and scratching lightly.

“Probably. I mean, I definitely went through an emo phase.”

Stiles laughs and feels Derek’s tension slowly ebb away at the sound. “Oh, I definitely need to hear about that.”

So Derek leans back against his headboard and starts recounting the time that he was emo for a solid twenty-four hours and then ended up actually liking the music and listening to it for the next two years. Stiles laughs and says that he’s totally not surprised that Derek actually liked that music, and would further not be surprised if Derek still listened to it. Derek rolls his eyes and says that he’s sorry to disappoint, but Stiles doesn’t believe him anyhow.

As they talk, the tension both in their bond and in Derek disappears until there’s nothing left but Stiles’ emotions of love, and just below that, Derek’s emotions of what feels like must be love to Stiles. He gets feelings of gratitude and hope, tied with adoration and overwhelming happiness. He guesses those are some of the feelings that Derek feels for Stiles or about Stiles, and decides that he likes those feelings a lot.

It's a confirmation of Derek’s feelings without having to actually say the words aloud, which Stiles thinks neither of them are quite ready for, but he’s patiently waiting for the day when they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for once, i actually feel like i don't have much to say, at least about the beginning. there's a lot of plot that's just setting up for future plot basically, so here's it now. i am curious to what we think about ethan and aiden though?
> 
> stiles' whole spark thing just really reminded me of lightning bending in avatar the last airbender, and i got stuck on that, so this is that. i feel like it definitely would move like a current through him and thus why only certain people are born sparks, just like some people are naturally born to be alphas
> 
> kate and jennifer have a lot of similarities in this story. some of you have expressed that and i am confirming it. and even stiles realizes it
> 
> also i'm here for peter and laura both confirming stiles' position in the pack and the effect he has on derek, but in a positive way. that's very important
> 
> the whole monster thing is something i cannot and will not get over. i'm not sorry
> 
> and stiles has been in love with derek for like ever, so while he doesn't want to admit his feelings in this moment because he wants them to be said at the right time, that doesn't mean that he's not going to admit them, or that he hasn't felt them for a very long time. writing the last portion of this chapter where he's introspective was one of my favorite things to write, especially where he's talking about love, that scene really meant a lot to me and i hope you can tell <333


	30. bustin' makes me feel good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I agree,” Derek mumbles and wraps an arm around Stiles. He takes a deep breath. “This is not gonna be easy.”
> 
> “None of this will be, but we’ll do what we can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's my birthday!!! that being said, i apologize that this chapter is a bit shorter than the last two have been, this one is a bit of a filler, though it does contain important pieces of plot, but it's like this one, the next one, and then we're down to the finale chapters!! crazy, i know
> 
> chapter title comes from "ghostbusters" by ray parker jr., though i also like the new version done by walk the moon. also song isn't very teen wolf related, but it's one of my favorite songs and movies, so birthday perks! <3

Stiles has never seen Morrell or Marcus just casually walking about. Alya, either, for that matter. It makes finding them and talking to them without their Alphas a lot harder.

Marcus is actually the hardest, considering all Stiles would have to do is call Deaton to get his sister or ask Satomi to contact Alya. Marcus is an island, however, because not only does Stiles not know anybody in Ennis’ pack, but he’s never actually talked to Ennis either.

Luckily for them, sort of, Marcus has a crush on Jennifer, which is weird and Stiles doesn’t want to get into the details about it. The problem is that he’s going to have to somehow get Marcus’ information from Jennifer, who allegedly has his phone number and could also set up a meeting between Stiles and Marcus, considering she has no interest in him, or so she’s told Stiles previously when she first mentioned Marcus’ crush on her in passing. Stiles decides to suck it up and ask her.

“I want you to know that it’s all pretend,” Stiles tells Derek as they stand in the alleyway next to the coffee shop, hand on his chest and staring into his eyes. “None of its real.”

“It feels real,” Derek pouts. Stiles leans in and pecks Derek, stroking his chest lightly to placate him.

“I just need information. You’ll be close enough the whole time. It’s gonna look real, but you and I will know it isn’t.”

Derek sighs. “Does this not feel like you’re prostituting yourself for information?”

“Firstly, that’s a bold statement to make. Secondly, no, it does not feel like that. It feels like we need information and this is the only way to get it. It’s also the safest way to get it. This’ll be the hardest one and then that’s it, okay? After that, we have the girls and it’s smooth sailing. They both like me. Well, Morrell tolerates me, I think, but Alya’s chill.”

Derek levels him with a glare and Stiles raises his hands in defense. “Can you at least pretend you’re not enjoying this?”

“Oh, I’m not gonna enjoy going out there, but I am enjoying teasing you,” Stiles admits, kissing Derek again. Derek kisses back and Stiles lets both of them enjoy it for a moment before pulling back. “I need to go.”

“This isn’t horribly uncomfortable for you?” Derek asks, looking nervous.

Stiles shrugs. “It’s just coffee.”

“Yeah, but it’s with—I mean, it’s like you and—” Derek cuts himself off, but Stiles hears what he’s trying to say anyway.

“I wish it was you,” he says, putting his hands on Derek’s chest again. “I wish it was our first real date in public.”

Derek nods, looking down at Stiles. “Me too.”

Stiles kisses Derek one more time before pulling away and patting his chest. “It’s just coffee,” he says again. “It’d be better if it was you, but it’s just coffee.”

“Okay,” Derek says, a slightly worried expression still on his face. Stiles glances at his phone and takes a deep breath before telling Derek goodbye, heading around the corner, and entering the coffee shop.

Stiles made up an excuse. Said he wanted to meet another Emissary closer to his age that he could trust. Jennifer had laughed and suggested Marcus and Stiles said that yeah, he’d like to get to know Marcus. Jennifer set them up to get coffee the next day.

Which is why Stiles is now standing in this hipster shop that just opened a few months ago on Main Street, glancing around to try to pick out this man who is closer to Jennifer’s age than Stiles’ and that Stiles has only seen like once.

He does find Marcus easily, waving when he sees him. Marcus gives his a head nod back.

Okay, so that’s how this is going to go.

“Hey, dude,” Stiles says, sitting down next to him. He feels Derek through the mate bond on the other side of the brick wall to his right.

“Hi,” Marcus says, watching Stiles as he settles in his seat. He’s nursing some kind of drink, maybe a weird sort of cappuccino, but it’s apparently not as interesting as Stiles at the moment.

“So… How’ve you been recently?” Stiles tries. Marcus raises an eyebrow.

“Not to burst your bubble or anything, but I was told that Jennifer was meeting me here. You’re not Jennifer.”

“Quite an astute observation,” Stiles says sarcastically before he remembers he needs to charm this guy. “Uh, I mean, she totally wanted to come, but she couldn’t make it. She sent me instead.”

“I was expecting a date.”

“Oh. Uh, well, I suppose—”

“You’re not my type,” Marcus says dryly, sipping his weird ass drink.

Stiles, despite himself, gets offended. “Um, that’s not—”

“You’re too young first of all, and second, it’s not that I wouldn’t date dudes, but I wouldn’t date you. No offense.”

“None taken,” Stiles mutters, although he definitely found that offensive.

“So now that we’ve done this,” Marcus starts, standing up.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Stiles scrambles to his feet, holding his hands out. This is so not going according to plan. He can practically hear Derek laughing at him while simultaneously sighing in relief.

Marcus stops and gives Stiles the same look Danny used to give Stiles when he asked one too many questions.

“What?”

“I just wanted to check in with you. Emissary to Emissary. I mean, I’m going to be the Emissary to the Great Alpha and I was wondering if you could give me some pointers based on your own experience. I didn’t mean to mislead you, although I’m not sure why Jennifer told you she’d show up for a date and then didn’t. You should probably find a nicer crush.”

Marcus sighs and glances skyward before taking a seat again. Stiles sits, too.

“What do you wanna know?”

“Well, surely after being with Ennis for some time, you’ve learned cool Emissary tricks. Are there any you’d be willing to share with me?”

“The only trick I can offer if to always make sure you have the right ingredients for a spell. It’s so annoying trying to do a spell and running out of herbs halfway through. Then you gotta improvise with whatever you can find the fastest.”

Not only does Stiles not think it’s a good idea to improvise, but Jennifer has expressly told him before that never, under any circumstances, should one improvise. That improvising was damaging to the culture and a side effect of modern Druidry, like the one thing she despises more than anything else in the world.

Stiles has a funny feeling it’s not going to work out between Marcus and Jennifer.

“That’s… A really good tip,” Stiles says as cheerily as he can. “You know, it’s forward thinking like that that really inspires me as an Emissary.”

“Thanks,” Marcus says with a grin. Stiles just barely contains his incredulous laughter. He decides to change the subject.

“So, as an Emissary of one of the Five Packs, you must get to be present for a lot of important discussions, get to see how everything works. I can’t wait until I’m doing that. What’s it like?”

“Boring, mostly,” Marcus admits. “Lots of talks about stuff I don’t care about. Especially when Ennis, Kali, and Deucalion get together.”

“Boring like what?” Stiles asks in his best innocent voice, which he’s perfected in his time knowing Jennifer.

Marcus waves a hand. “Like talks about who wants which territories and how they’re going to execute their plans and all that boring stuff. Jennifer is the only interesting part about those meetings, the way she’s always glaring angrily at everyone. She never speaks up, though. I guess I never do either.”

So they’re all talking about splitting up territories… Does that mean they’re all in on it? They’re divvying up the land like it’s theirs to divvy up. But that doesn’t necessarily mean anything. But it’s also too big of a coincidence for Stiles to just overlook it.

“Surely working with such an important figure is… Intimidating. Hopefully, he doesn’t push you to do anything you don’t wanna do or anything like that.”

Marcus furrows his brows. “Who, Ennis? No. No way. He’s good to work with. Doesn’t ask anything of me that I don’t want. Why would you ask that?”

Stiles gives a nervous expression. “I’m scared of working with Talia all on my own. I’ve never worked with an Alpha before, I’m not sure what it’s going to be like.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine,” Marcus promises, taking another sip of his drink. “Talia is so non-threatening. I mean, she’s hardly a real Alpha anyway.”

Stiles hums and raises an eyebrow at the comment, but doesn’t say anything in response.

He manages to get through another fifteen minutes of asking Marcus dumb, inane questions that he totally doesn’t care about. He finishes up and thanks Marcus for answering his questions and leaves, ducking around the corner of the coffee shop where Derek is standing, arms crossed over his chest and mouth set in a firm line. He looks like he’s on the verge of losing control.

Stiles steps into his space and touches him, gently at first before pressing into him as Derek begins to relax.

“They’re just words,” he tells Derek. “Spoken by a very ignorant man.”

“Who probably shares the belief with others,” Derek grounds out.

“You can’t fight everyone who opposes your mom, Derek, as much as you would like to. And he’s probably just a sheep like the rest of them.”

Derek sighs deeply and nods, looking at Stiles for a moment before saying, “Can we please move on to the girls now?”

Stiles laughs and says, “Well, I had no idea you were that interested in girls, Der. Sure makes a boy feel special.”

Derek lightly nudges Stiles’ arm in what could be construed as a baby punch and Stiles snickers. “Please, you know you’re the only girl for me,” Derek deadpans.

“You flatter me,” Stiles says earnestly before straightening and nodding with his head down the alley toward the back parking lot that’s meant for employees and where Derek has the Camaro. He definitely could’ve stayed in the Camaro while Stiles was in the coffee shop and still have been able to hear him, but he’s also a worrywart and insisted on coming as close as possible just in case something happened. Stiles, however, doesn’t think that anybody would be stupid enough to use magic or shift out in broad daylight in the middle of town, but Derek is a stubborn man and there was no arguing with him.

They head toward the Camaro, the clinic their next stop.

+++

Finding and talking to Morrell is the next hardest, because she’s Deucalion’s Emissary. The easy part is that she’s Deaton’s sister, but as Deaton has just got through explaining, they’re not exactly close.

“Marin is her own person,” Deaton tells them as he disinfects the metal table in the back room. Scott’s handfeeding a small cat with a baby bottle in the corner of the room, looking way too adorable for Stiles to handle right now.

“We just need you to send her a text, asking to meet. Say it’s important,” Derek says, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back against the counters. Stiles is looking through the medical supplies on the other side of the room.

“I’m telling you, Marin will see through this trick.”

“It’s not a trick,” Derek stresses. Stiles picks up some of the gloves and examines then. “We just wanna talk to her. See if she’s okay.”

“My sister can take care of herself.”

“I get that, but if we could just---” There’s a satisfying _snap_! of latex snapping back into place and everyone turns to look at the source of the noise. Stiles stands there staring at his hand and arm shoved inside a latex glove, one that comes up over his elbow. He glances over and catches Derek’s eyes, who flicks his eyebrows up. Stiles makes a face as he quickly takes the glove off and disposes of it.

“Look, I will contact her for you, but I am telling you now that she is not the type to be intimidated, as you say,” Deaton says, turning his attention back to his cleaning. “There’s a reason she and I don’t talk much. She has different values than me.”

“Surely her values don’t differ enough to prevent her from talking to us,” Stiles says. Deaton levels him with a look.

“You’d be surprised,” he says ominously before excusing himself from the room, pulling out his phone as he goes.

“Deaton doesn’t talk much about his sister, but I get the impression that she tends to help herself,” Scott says, setting down the bottle and lifting the cat up to look at its face. When he speaks again, his tone is high-pitched like when you talk to a baby. “She doesn’t agree with Deaton’s methods.”

“But Deaton’s all about keeping the peace,” Stiles says. Scott nods, shifting the cat in his arms again.

“And Ms. Morrell is about balance,” Scott says in his normal tone, and it sounds like he’s reciting that last bit, like he’s heard it a few times now. Stiles has heard a semblance of that, too. He remembers Derek telling him that while Stiles made pizza bagels in his kitchen. How Deaton has had to stop Marin several times from going too far. How it probably isn’t good she’s allied with Deucalion because of her ideals. He hopes that isn’t true.

“She’ll be here in fifteen minutes,” Deaton says as he comes back into the room. You’re welcome to wait for her in my office.

Derek sits in one of the chairs facing the desk while Stiles peruses the office. He’s seen it before and more and more frequently nowadays as he’s rapidly improving his spark, but there are some things that he takes special care to look at. Like the weird animal skull that’s about the size of a wolf’s head but has two horns coming out of the snout. Or the long fangs that claim they’re from a basilisk on the mount they’re resting on, and makes Stiles wonder if basilisks are even real.

He supposes he’s never seen supernatural creatures other than werewolves. Meeting Kira was new because she’s a kitsune, but Stiles still hasn’t actually seen the kitsune part of her in action. He never saw Jackson in his kanima form considering that only lasted a night or so, and still hasn’t technically seen him in his kanima-werewolf form. Malia was new, too, meeting a werecoyote, and she shifts similarly to Talia and Laura and Peter in that she actually takes on the shape of her animal, looking like a real coyote when she shifts. Lydia doesn’t look any different as a banshee and the only other supernatural creature that Stiles has met (and him knowing they were a supernatural creature) would be a druid, if you could even call them supernatural creatures. More like colleagues of the supernatural. Or a spark, his own mother, would be another supernatural “creature”, like himself. And that’s it. Everyone else has been a werewolf.

So he’s not sure what supernatural creatures are real and which ones are myths. He thinks of that book that he stole from Derek’s room so long ago— _The Modern Encyclopedia of Supernatural Creatures and Their Lore_ —and of the Argents’ Bestiary, of all the supernatural creatures listed and depicted and wondered if they were actually real. He saw a mention of a basilisk in those pages briefly, and a lamia, and a kitsune, and like a hundred other creatures that seem implausible but actually could be totally legit.

He should probably ask Derek about it. Being the son of the Great Alpha and a part of one of the most influential packs not only in North America, but also the world, from what Stiles has heard, he’s bound to have met his fair share of cool creatures, might even be able to introduce Stiles to some.

Though, to be fair, becoming the Emissary to the Hale pack, he’ll probably meet his own fair share of interesting creatures that way. It’s just another part of the job that he’s looking forward to.

When Morrell comes in, she glances between the two of them before setting her stance, maintaining a neutral expression on her face. Derek stands and steps a little closer to Stiles, though it seems like that’s on instinct.

“My brother said you two wanted to talk to me,” she says, hands clasped in front of her.

“We wanted to make sure you were doing okay,” Stiles begins amicably. “It’s been a crazy few weeks.”

“If you’re referencing the conjuring of the shadow monster and the rogue Alpha attacking and disturbing the natural balance, then I have to agree. Strange, what terrible things happen when we step out of line.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. Derek takes a step forward. “Are you blaming us for—”

“I’m just saying that there is a reason why this all happened,” Morrell says, spreading her hands. “I don’t know the reason, but disasters like this happen when people or towns are weak.”

“What, like God testing people? Is that what you’re saying?” Stiles demands.

“If you believe in God. If you don’t, call it a higher power. Someone with more power than you taking control. It’s natural. It’s… Evolutionary.”

Stiles shakes his head. She sounds fanatical. Absolutely bonkers. He can’t even believe what he’s hearing. Derek seems to be in the same boat, glaring at her, lips pulled back in a silent snarl.

“Did you… You didn’t do this, did you?” Stiles can’t help but ask. Morrell’s face remains blank for longer than Stiles is comfortable with before she clucks her tongue and shifts, shaking her head.

“Not even I am that obsessed with power and control,” Morrell says, stepping forward to take a seat. Derek growls when she gets too close, but she ignores him. “You are looking for someone far more maniacal than me.”

“What are you, then?”

“I am a keeper of the balance, as I have always been, and I shall always be. I am a keeper of the natural ways. Not as twisted or… Besetting as Jennifer. I preserve what was, what is, and what will come to be. I am not dark nor light. I am the film in between. Some recoil from it, but I embrace it.”

The way she talks… It’s weirder than anyone else Stiles talks to. It’s not riddles necessarily and she’s not lying because Derek would’ve said if she was, but she’s skirting around truths, grazing over what really matters to her and telling Derek and Stiles what they want to hear most without completely lying to them.

She also sounds… More unhinged than Stiles remembers. Maybe unhinged isn’t the right word, but she doesn’t sound right. Something about her is off and he can’t figure out what.

Now he’s wondering if maybe she set this whole thing up along with Jennifer and one of their Alphas. Or maybe her and Deucalion had a plan that Kali and Jennifer interrupted. Stiles isn’t sure anymore. But he marks her down in the ‘do not trust’ column.

“Okay, fortune cookie,” Stiles says, squaring his shoulders and crossing his arms over his chest, “did you and Deucalion have a plot to bite certain people and overall create chaos?”

“No.”

“Did Deucalion have a plot to do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know who the Alpha is that’s biting people?”

“I do not.”

Stiles sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Okay, did anyone, like, intimidate you in any way? Like in order to not share information?”

“No.”

Stiles sighs again and Derek steps forward.

“If we find out you’re lying—”

“You can hear my heart perfectly well, young wolf. You know I have not lied to you once. It would not be in my best interest anyway.”

“What interest is that?” Derek asks.

Morrell doesn’t roll her eyes, but it’s close enough. “Keeping the balance. You and Mr. Stilinski have such strong roles in this little game and you play them so well. I will not tip the scales for any reason.”

“What game?” Stiles questions, narrowing his eyes at Morrell.

“The game you’re playing right now. Who is the Alpha? When will they strike next? Will I be prepared to stand alone without the strength of my pack?” She tilts up her chin, surveying them. “You are both playing your parts wonderfully. There is no reason to intervene. And those who do will surely regret it.”

“Is that a threat?” Derek demands. Morrell looks at him.

“If it needs to be.” She stands up and straightens out her blouse. “I believe my time is up, gentleman. Thank you for playing.”

She exits without a glance back and Derek and Stiles both watch her go in silence.

“What the fuck just happened?” Derek mutters.

“She’s worse than Peter,” Stiles grumbles, running a hand over his face. “Okay, so no help and not currently being watched or anything, but could very well be working for… Somebody?” Stiles sighs. “I mean, just, what the fuck?”

Derek makes a noise of agreement and then sighs. “Well, two down, one to go. Hopefully, she’ll be better than the last two.”

“Yeah, hopefully.”

+++

Alya is easy to get ahold of. Stiles tells Satomi that he needs to talk to her Emissary and she sets up a time for Alya to drop by the house, no questions asked.

Alya enters the study and looks skittish, which Stiles is starting to attribute to her character, like how Isaac was all the time when Stiles first met him. He’s better now, not completely changed, but better, but it doesn’t seem like Alya is really improving. Stiles holds his hand out and she shakes it, glancing around and watching Derek for a moment before looking back at Stiles.

“It’s really good to see you again,” Stiles says earnestly. The last time they saw each other was the trial, when she had helped Derek out with the photos. He won’t forget what she did, not only to help her Alpha, but to help an innocent person. That counts for something in Stiles’ book.

And her warning about Jennifer. He won’t forget that she tried to help with that either.

“You too,” Alya says, glancing at Derek. “Derek.”

Derek shakes her hand as well, smiling. “Hey, Alya. How are you?”

“Good. All things considered.”

She says the last part quickly and quietly, and it has Stiles and Derek glancing at each other. It’s the kinda thing that’s slightly worrying and what they’re looking for.

“What does that mean, Alya?” Stiles asks.

Alya blinks, like she’s surprised he heard her in the first place. “What? N-nothing. I was just… Speaking.” She waves a hand and takes a breath before continuing. “You know, I mean, this situation is less than ideal, of course. Wish there wasn’t a crazy Alpha on the loose biting people. Y-your friends, at that. I can’t imagine what you two are going through right now. Or your friends. Their exposure to this life. It’s surely a lot to handle. For-for anybody. That’s all I meant.”

It's evident that Alya is trying to hide something, that she’s not saying what she means, that she’s super nervous. Stiles presses further.

“Yeah, it is tough. It’s even tougher when people we trust lie to us and hide important things,” Stiles presses. Alya gets an owlish expression on her face, blinking several times.

“O-oh. I can imagine how that would be frustrating,” she agrees. “I hate when people lie to me. But… Sometimes people have good reason to lie, don’t you think? I mean, if you’re trying to protect someone, or groups of people even, isn’t it okay to lie? Or, at least, not tell the full truth?”

“Not if people get hurt,” Stiles stresses. “It’s never okay to let people—innocent people—get hurt.”

“You sound like a superhero,” Alya tells him, smiling faintly. “That’s something that’s so admirable about you. You always have hope. Both of you do. It’s sweet.” Alya shrugs. “Some people would say it’s naïve, but I think it’s really brave. I think the world would be a better place if people were as brave as you.”

Stiles steps forward. “Alya, if there’s something—”

“I really appreciate you talking to me today, Stiles,” Alya interrupts. “I’m really happy and proud to call you my friend. Same goes for you, Derek. If you two ever need anything, please, don’t be afraid to ask. I’ll help with whatever I can. I can _see_ a brighter future for all of us. You will lead us there. And I can’t wait for that day.”

Alya turns on her heel and leaves, wrapping her arms around herself as she goes.

Stiles lets out a breath and turns to look at Derek. Derek raises his eyebrows in response.

“So she obviously knows something,” Stiles begins.

“And she’s absolutely terrified,” Derek finishes. “We have to help her.”

“We don’t even know what she knows or who she’s afraid of,” Stiles sighs. “I mean, I want to help her, I want to find out what she knows, but I don’t think we have a good way to go about that right now. We need to find a way to help her, a good way, not half-assed.”

“I agree,” Derek mumbles and wraps an arm around Stiles. He takes a deep breath. “This is not gonna be easy.”

“None of this will be, but we’ll do what we can.”

“Exactly.”

Derek kisses Stiles’ forehead and holds him in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in case y'all were wondering what the other emissaries are doing, here it is. i'm actually pretty happy with how this chapter turned out, some of the elements and pieces of the dialogue that just worked incredibly well, so i hope you all enjoyed this fun little thing. also, it may seem like even more questions have arose, but don't worry, we're about to get down to all the answers soon here! (and stiles and derek WILL get a real first date, i promise!!)
> 
> i will say that while marcus and stiles' encounter was fun to write, morrell was the most fun i had. i think her character actually differs quite a bit than the tv show, but i really took creative liberties and played around with her morals, which was a really good time. i will definitely be talking about that more later on (also, if she sounds a tiny bit like galadriel, i am not sorry, i watched lotr recently and she's fresh in my mind)
> 
> and i will say that i don't think we'll be showcasing any new supernatural creatures for this story, but i wanted to bring up that stiles is curious about their existence and wants to look into it, because i envision him creating a sort of sanctuary in beacon hills for all kinds of creatures, and i wanted to briefly bring up the inklings of that idea here
> 
> and that's it for now! once again, because i love mentioning it, it is my birthday and i wanted to give you all a treat. i know this isn't a lot, but i had a lot of fun with it, and i hope that this is a fun read for y'all! and like i said, we have one more chapter of sort of talking and fluff and then we start to the nitty gritty! i am so excited and also so nervous and i just can't wait! <333


	31. darling, it is no joke, this is lycanthropy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How the hell are we gonna do this?”
> 
> “Together,” Derek replies automatically. Stiles looks over at him. “We’ll do it together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry this is so short. basically i'm very busy and very busy trying to get the end of this all done and i should've added this to the last chapter, but i didn't and so it's on it's own. anyway, here it is
> 
> chapter title comes from "she wolf" by shakira

Stiles drives over to Derek’s house on Saturday and is greeted by the sight of Derek and a picnic basket waiting for him in the kitchen.

“I’m not wearing nice enough clothes for you to surprise me and be cute,” Stiles whines, stepping into Derek’s space and kissing the bolt of his jaw. Derek chuckles and rubs Stiles’ back.

“You look fine,” he promises. He’s lying, though, because he’s dressed in a maroon V-neck and tight-fitting jeans while Stiles has on the Batman shirt Scott gave to him as a Christmas present that already has suspicious stains on it despite Stiles only having it for almost four months. He’s pretty sure two of them are curry. One is probably Melissa’s homemade guac. It’s not like it’s a shirt he typically wears out in public, more of a sleep shirt or chilling shirt than anything, and he just put it on in his haste to come over. And now he regrets it.

“You could’ve at least said we were gonna be a cute couple today,” Stiles complains half-heartedly as Derek picks up the picnic basket and gestures for Stiles to head out the back door. “I would’ve brought flowers or something.”

“I’ve got you covered,” Derek replies and pulls a small purple flower from inside the basket. Stiles has no idea what kind of flower it even is, just knows that it’s adorable and small and the kind of flower a girl would tuck behind her ear. Stiles does just this when Derek gives it to him, turning to show it off.

“What do ya think?”

Derek grins, touching it delicately before nodding. “Suits you. Come on.”

Stiles makes a happy noise and follows as Derek leads him into the woods.

There’s several paths in the forest that all branch together. There’s one main path that the hikers and normal people go down, easiest to get back to the main road or the parking lot taking that path, easiest to not get lost. There’s paths that branch off it, a few that the rangers go down, though not very frequently. There’s certain paths that strictly the Hunters use when they don’t want to go traipsing through the underbrush.

Derek, and the rest of the wolves, don’t follow the paths. They move through the forest with ease, gliding past the trees and out of the belly of the beast, never needing a path to show them where to go. They follow their own path because it’s instinctual, the wolf inside of them telling them where to go, when to turn, what area is going to be the safest, the driest, have the biggest water source. The wild thing inside of them steers the way and humans, like Stiles, aren’t really meant to keep up.

But Derek is caring and he slows down, holding out an arm or hand when Stiles needs to steady himself, stopping every couple of minutes to tell Stiles which way they’re heading now.

They don’t go for very long, maybe just under half an hour of walking, probably still within hearing distance for some of the more skilled wolves. Stiles isn’t sure how good their range is, if he’s being honest. It’s something he still hasn’t tried.

Derek finally finds a good enough spot and sets them down there. There’s an adorable little pond with mossy rocks and a mossy log laying over the pond. Stiles can see two frogs sitting just inside the log, just sitting there chilling. He briefly likens them to the frogs from _The Princess and the Frog_ , Tiana and Naveen. He calls the bulkier one Naveen and the slimmer one Tiana and watches them watch him.

“I guess it’s not much of a proper first date,” Derek muses as he unpacks the picnic basket. He sets a blanket down on the ground and then squats to pull more stuff out of the basket. “I didn’t pick you up at your door and we’re not going to a public place and I doubt I’ll drop you off on your front porch either since you drove yourself, but I figured it was a good start.”

Stiles takes a seat on the picnic basket and takes the wrapped sandwich and little snacks that Derek hands him.

“It’s a good start,” he tells him earnestly. Derek smiles at him and sits beside him, dusting off his hands.

“It should probably also be a better meal than just whatever I had in my pantry,” Derek admits. “But I didn’t know if—”

Stiles shuts him up with a kiss. “It’s a good start,” he repeats against Derek’s lips. Derek nods before tilting his head and kissing him deeper.

It’s a while until they can eat their sandwiches.

+++

“I mean, it’s a really good story with a good message, I think,” Derek says as he dips a pita chip in hummus. Stiles wrinkles his nose at the concoction.

“Whoever made hummus is the most untrustworthy person in the world,” Stiles mutters, half-listening to Derek’s story.

“The ancient Egyptians,” Derek tells him.

Stiles shakes his head. “Shady people.”

“Yes, I mean, they basically invented writing, papyrus, ink, irrigation, clocks, toothpaste—”

“Yes, yes, I get it. _Fascinating_ people,” Stiles says with an eye roll. “Also, haven’t you already read _The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll & Mr Hyde_?”

“Several times, but you asked me what I was reading.”

“I see,” Stiles muses. “You do have a habit of re-reading comfort books. I’m sure you’ll break out one of Mary Shelley’s works next.”

“Shelley’s an incredible author and was a badass. How could someone _not_ like her work?”

Stiles laughs and shakes his head. “I don’t know, that truly is one of life’s great mysteries.”

“‘I do know that for the sympathy of one living being, I would make peace with all. I have love in me the likes of which you can scarcely imagine and rage the likes of which you would not believe. If I cannot satisfy the one, I will indulge the other,’” Derek quotes.

“Frankenstein,” Stiles recalls fondly. That’s one of his favorite quotes from the story. “‘Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather thy fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed.’ That book was messed up, what the doctor did to the Creature.”

“But it’s one of my favorites. He basically calls Frankenstein out for acting like God and trying to give and take life while referencing Milton’s epic that paints Lucifer, the commonly thought monster, in a new light as a victim of God’s cruel ways. I mean—” Derek blows out a breath “—her work is really something else.”

“I do love a good analogy,” Stiles agrees, grinning and leaning back on his elbow, like Derek, relaxing in the cool spring air. He huffs a laugh. “You know Coach told me that I might have a chance at first line.”

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. He said if I kept working and I stopped flailing, that I’d probably get somewhere.”

“I’ll work with you. We can train together,” Derek promises, offering Stiles a pita chip with hummus. Stiles scrunches up his nose and turns his face away. Derek laughs.

“Speaking of training, how’s the full shift coming?” Stiles asks, picking up some grapes instead. “Red are superior,” he whispers conspiratorially.

Derek shakes his head. “Green are better, you’re out of your mind.”

Stiles rolls his eyes, finding the little frogs on the log again, who’ve switched places, but haven’t moved other than that. “You didn’t answer my question,” he points out.

Derek ducks his head. “I’m not there yet… But I think I’m making progress,” he admits shyly.

“Show me,” Stiles implores. Derek sighs, but stands up, taking off his shirt, which is a sight Stiles will never get tired of.

“You asked for it,” Derek grumbles and takes a deep breath as he closes his eyes to concentrate.

Stiles wolf whistles at the display of Derek standing there shirtless and Derek raises his middle finger up calmly in response, making Stiles laugh. But they both calm down and Derek gets serious.

Stiles sees when it starts rippling across his skin, shifting into his Beta form first before his skin starts to change into something else, hair growing all over his arms and torso and face. His facial features start elongating for the briefest of moments, and it looks immensely painful, before his features shift back to normal and he gasps a little for air, the hair receding as quickly as it came.

Stiles has never seen an Alpha shift actually happen—the Alphas have always already been shifted when he’s met with them, be it Talia or Laura or Peter—but he doesn’t think it’s supposed to go like that.

“That… Looked painful,” Stiles says, not wanting to be rude, but he’s curious.

“It’s not pleasant,” Derek agrees.

“Good job otherwise! I mean, it doesn’t necessarily look _bad_ , but—”

Derek huffs a laugh, grabbing his shirt and pulling it back on before taking his seat beside Stiles again.

“I’m supposed to look like Mom or Laura, not like Peter.” Stiles laughs. Peter does have a weird Alpha shift, which Stiles has always attributed to Peter’s nature. Talia said something like that once, that Alphas, in the Alpha form, take on the shape of what they reflect, what they are. Kind of like the kanima thing. The reason Peter had a messed up Alpha form was because his nature wasn’t as genuine or pure as Laura or Talia’s.

Derek, in theory, should never look like Peter. He should reflect Laura and Talia a lot more, real wolves at their core. But he currently does not represent that. He looks more like a 80’s horror movie Wolfman.

“You’ll get there,” Stiles assures him. Derek smiles at him.

“What about your magic?” Derek asks. “How are you doing there?”

Stiles holds out his hand and focuses, concentrating as he pulls the elements to him. He swirls the air around them as he builds a fireball in one palm. The water in the pond ripples, causing Naveen and Tiana to ribbit loudly his way, and the earth around them quakes gently. Stiles stops and everything else comes to a stop and he takes a few deep breaths. Manipulating all four elements at once tires him out quite a bit.

“I have a good grasp on the elements,” he says, catching his breath. “The other magical stuff—drawing wards, making potions and mixtures and whatever, rune work—it’s pretty easy once you get the hang of it. Granted, learning Latin and Gaelic is not how I wanted to spend my free time, but Deaton says it’s a price to pay.”

“I’m sorry you have to do all of that,” Derek tells him earnestly. Stiles waves it off.

“Don’t be. I mean, without magic and the spark, I wouldn’t even know who I truly was, you know? I’d probably always feel like there was a part of me missing. Or maybe not, because ignorance is bliss.” Stiles shrugs. “I don’t know. But I feel like I would’ve felt the spark moving within me.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s always there, kind of slithering around like a snake. Not in a gross, nasty way, but more like… I don’t know, more like a garden snake or just—ugh, maybe that’s a bad metaphor.” Stiles takes a breath and starts over. “It’s like this weird feeling I get in my stomach. It tingles and it aches a little, kinda feels like something’s trying to crawl its way out.”

“Like an anxious feeling?”

“Yeah, or a tapeworm,” Stiles quips. Derek chuckles lightly. “But it’s necessarily anxious. It’s just a constant, present reminder that it’s there, weighing on me and letting me know that if I need it, it’s there. Am I making any sense? I feel like I’m just repeating myself.”

“I think I kind of get it,” Derek nods. “It’s like the wolf. I know it’s always there and that it’s a part of me, even if it’s not something to be seen. It’s something to be felt.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Stiles agrees. Derek’s talked about the wolf before and how it is a part of him and feels like himself, but also feels like its own separate entity. Like he and the wolf just cohabit a single living space. Peter has also talked about his wolf like that, like it’s something he controls, or can’t control sometimes, like it’s its own being.

He wonders if the rogue Alpha feels that way, too. If it’s Kali or Deucalion and they are who they are, but they’re also who their wolf makes them become. Is it like that for all wolves? Is it a Hale thing? Is it a born wolf thing? Because Stiles doesn’t know if Kali and Deucalion are born or bitten wolves, but maybe it feels different for Derek and Peter than it does for Scott or Isaac or Erica. He’d be interested in finding out more at some point.

“It’s kind of cool,” Derek says, gesturing vaguely at Stiles. “I mean, you can do so many things.”

“But not enough. The full moon is in less than two weeks and I still have so much to learn, to perfect. Deaton says I need to master the elements if I wanna stand a chance.”

“You’ll get there, Aang, in your own time,” Derek says lightly. Stiles can’t help but laugh, the tension easing out of him.

“It’s funny you say that, because I totally was thinking the same thing. Though I also think I’m Sokka.”

“You absolutely are,” Derek smiles. “Who would I be?”

“Zuko, obviously. Do you remember the series? He was all running around trying to harsh Aang’s vibe and restore his honor and deadly serious and super awkward.”

“I don’t ‘harsh your vibe’ and I’m not trying to restore my honor. And I’m not that serious.”

“Yeah, but that’s because your redemption arc already passed. You’re Derek 2.0 now.”

Derek laughs and shakes his head. “Well, bully for that.”

“We’ve both changed so much,” Stiles murmurs. “It’s been a crazy two months.”

“I know. And there’s still so much left to do.”

“Don’t remind me,” Stiles groans and Derek gives him an empathetic look before continuing.

“We have to look into Morrell and figure out who the Alpha is and what Alya knows. That’s for starters.”

“Come so far, got so far to go,” Stiles nods, looking off at the pond and noting that Naveen and Tiana have hopped away by now. “How the hell are we gonna do this?”

“Together,” Derek replies automatically. Stiles looks over at him. “We’ll do it together.”

Stiles smirks slightly, recognizing the quote, and, judging from the slightly smug but serious expression on Derek’s face, he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“And if we lose?”

“Then we’ll do that together, too.”

Stiles stares at Derek for a long moment before leaning across the food between them and kissing him softly. Derek kisses back and when they pull apart, he produces one of those purple flowers from out of nowhere and offers it to Stiles, who grins and takes it, wondering how in the world he got so lucky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so they get a little nice date where they can hang out and be themselves and talk a bit about what's going on. this is the last chapter before the beginning of the end, so i wanted it to be nice and fluffy and simple!
> 
> i love shelley. i think that's well established by now but frankenstein is one of my favorite books of all time and i will never be able to get over it
> 
> i love the idea of derek helping stiles with lacrosse. we really won't see it in this story, but i wanted to introduce the idea anyway
> 
> also, sorry there are so many avatar references???? it just kept happening, i literally could not control myself
> 
> and not sorry about all the marvel references. but anyway, that's really all i have, sorry it's so damn short and more of a scene than a chapter, but there will be more to come on monday and we will start to see everything go down! <33


	32. i've been running with the wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone falls silent in contemplation. Stiles thinks that maybe this is really it and this whole nightmare situation can be put to rest. He can’t say that they’ve won because the war feels far from over, but they’re in the endgame now and the pieces are set and the balance hangs precariously between them like a spider’s web in the breeze, strong and true yet flexible and yielding. Who it will yield to is the question with no discernible answer. It’s all a house of cards right now and one good gust could topple this whole operation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's only a small taste of action in this chapter, but i didn't want to make it too long and awkwardly cut off the next part, so this is what i have. also, a lot of fluff
> 
> chapter title comes from "wolves" by selena gomez and mashmello

The next week and a half passes in relative silence. Stiles works with Jennifer, who tells him that Deucalion is standing down for now, but there’s a glint in her eyes that Stiles doesn’t trust. He also spends a great deal of his time with Deaton, working over techniques and new skills and whatnot, and his mom, who continues to train him on the history of the spark while sharing her own anecdotes about her spark when it was at its peak.

Derek, in the meantime, works with his mother and Laura about the Alpha shift. He and Stiles keep regular updates on how they’re both doing. Sties is progressing rather nicely, he thinks, but Derek hasn’t reported much progress. They also haven’t made much progress with Marin or Alya, and talking to Satomi about what Alya said only rendered in Satomi having no idea what they meant and being just as confused and concerned as they are.

So, it feels more like they’ve gotten nowhere at all. Except Jennifer did make an offhand comment about basically Kali being too weak to make any sort of progressive move about anything, which led Stiles to the firm conclusion that Deucalion must be the Alpha. He’s not sure if Deucalion and Jennifer are working together and he’s not sure he’ll get a set answer either, at least not until he does something active about this all. Which is one why he immediately brings the information to Talia, Deaton, and the pack, all gathered in their usual meeting grounds.

“Jennifer basically told me that Kali isn’t going to make any sort of moves unless she knows she can win, and right now she doesn’t know she can win. Which is why I’m pretty convinced it’s Deucalion,” Stiles tells them as he sits on Talia’s desk, Derek on his right looking unsure.

Stiles gets being unsure. They’ve been trying so long to crack the case and now it’s finally here, but everything is happening so fast and Stiles isn’t sure that it’s all going to work out. It seems the more time passes, the less reassured he is. Never mind that the full moon is in a few days now, same with the dance, which conveniently fall on the same day, because Stiles’ life is a poorly written teen scream and he can’t catch a break.

“Of course, Deucalion,” Talia grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest as she paces the floor. Pacing is a scary look on her, because Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever seen her pace. “We’ll have to go to him now, make a move. I’ll get Laura and Peter.”

She leaves with Deaton at her heel and Derek turns to Stiles. “Are we sure it’s Deucalion? What if we’re wrong?”

“We aren’t,” Stiles insists. “We can’t be.”

“A lot of it makes sense,” Scott offers.

“And a lot of it doesn’t,” Theo adds. “Did he and Jennifer do this all together? What’s their end goal and why does it so heavily involve Stiles? Why did Deucalion bite who he bit?”

“We’ll find answers,” Stiles promises, even though it feels a little empty. “We have to.”

Everyone falls silent in contemplation. Stiles thinks that maybe this is really it and this whole nightmare situation can be put to rest. He can’t say that they’ve won because the war feels far from over, but they’re in the endgame now and the pieces are set and the balance hangs precariously between them like a spider’s web in the breeze, strong and true yet flexible and yielding. Who it will yield to is the question with no discernible answer. It’s all a house of cards right now and one good gust could topple this whole operation.

Everyone is safe. Right now. As safe as they can be. Precarious, like an angel on the head of a pin, a droplet on the edge of a knife’s blade, a dancer waiting en pointe.

There’s so many unknowns. What Theo listed and more. Like does Morrell know and if so, how was she able to lie to Derek? What does Alya know and is she scared of Deucalion? She must be, Stiles concludes. What else don’t they know? What other secrets and plots are lurking in the darkness?

Low murmuring has broken out across the room, their friends talking amongst themselves quietly in little groups. Derek steps closer and wraps an arm around Stiles, just a comforting weight if he should need it. He leans into Derek’s warmth and quietly takes it all in.

Safe. For now. But safe.

Everything will work out in the end, he repeats to himself like a prayer, a mantra to get himself through the depths of hell. Orpheus in damnation, searching for his happiness. He thinks he’ll find it, both himself and Orpheus. The problem is keeping it. Because he has found it, in his pack and all these people and Derek, especially, and he can call it his own, but will he, like Orpheus, be unable to hold onto it? Be so consumed by the thoughts, the _what if it’s not true?_ and _what if I lose it?_ that he will inevitably bring about his own destruction and sorrow? Will he, like Orpheus, be so consumed by his own anxiety that he loses the best thing to ever have happened to him? Will he, unlike Orpheus, be able to try again? But he doesn’t want to try again if it’s not with his pack, with Derek.

He is overthinking, he can tell. He’s a big ball of nerves and naturally any time he starts comparing his life to a Greek tragedy is a bad time.

Derek presses a kiss into his hairline, and Stiles feels the simultaneous draining of his negative emotions as well as a wave of reassurance being pushed through the bond. Derek comforting him is one of his favorite things, which he’s sure Derek knows by now.

He sends back those waves of love he’s now grown used to pushing through the bond, which Derek responds immediately by sending back the same thing, the smell of coffee and the sound of rain and the feeling of curling up in a window with a good book and a blanket. Stiles takes it all.

They stay there and watch the others talk for not very much longer. Stiles is about to suggest they all go watch a movie to take their minds off everything when Talia and Laura come in.

“Deucalion is missing,” Talia announces, looking nervous and determined all at once.

Shocked exclamations ring across the room. Stiles feels his blood run cold.

He straightens and says, “What do you mean, he’s missing?”

“He wasn’t at the hotel his pack was staying at,” Laura says. “The clerk said he and everyone in their rooms checked out. Same goes for Kali and Ennis.”

“It might not mean anything,” Talia says, holding a hand out to stop Laura, though it’s clear she doesn’t quite believe that herself.

Stiles feels the beginnings of a panic attack coming on. Derek holds onto him a little firmer.

“Or it could mean he knows,” Stiles points out. “That they all know. Oh my God, they know. They’re going to—”

“Stiles, take a deep breath,” Derek instructs, moving to stand in front of him, block his view so that all he sees is Derek. “Breathe with me.”

And he does. In five, out seven. One of the techniques that works for him though he knows there are several. Derek knows this technique because he’s had to do it with Stiles over the years.

It doesn’t take too long to calm Stiles down and everyone is patient enough to wait for him and make it quiet so he can concentrate, though Stiles can feel the concerned air and tension in the room.

When he’s back on solid ground, Talia says, “I know this all seems bad, but try not to worry. We’re going to take care of it. Everything will be okay.”

Everything will work out in the end, he tells himself again, even though it’s getting harder and harder to believe.

“We can offer our protection,” she tells them. “We’ll have people look after you and make sure you’re safe.”

There’s nothing more to be done but protection, Stiles knows. They’re sitting ducks at this point, and he’s the main target. At least, that’s how he feels a good majority of the time. But still, he knows that right now all they can do is protect themselves while Talia and a few others try to find the three Alphas.

Stiles has an inkling they won’t see them again until the full moon, but he doesn’t want to be outwardly pessimistic.

“Protection posted outside of school and sticking together when we’re not in school,” Stiles declares, trying to act more confident than he feels. “We never go anywhere without a buddy or two.”

“How will this affect the dance?” Lydia asks. “Because my dress is too cute to not show off.”

“There will be no dance,” Talia decides. There’s a small uproar where Talia’s voice gets drowned out, until Stiles clears his throat.

“Hey!” The word echoes like it’s done in the past and everyone turns to him. “We’ll go to the dance—” Talia starts to protest so Stiles continues “—but only all together and while being hypervigilant. That’s the night of the full moon, so we need to stay together.”

Talia purses her lips before nodding. “Only if you’re back at the house before it gets too late.”

“We’ll be back by midnight,” Stiles promises. There’s some grumbling at the time, from all the parties, but it’s not like the school dance will be open until the early morning anyway, so they all agree.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Derek whispers to him as everyone turns their attention back to each other to talk about the dance and what’s going on.

“I do too,” Stiles murmurs, squeezing his hand and trying to focus on his breathing.

Three pieces have moved and Stiles sits at the back of the board waiting to see what will happen next.

+++  
  


Jennifer has stopped contacting him. When Stiles goes to the Nemeton at their usual meeting time, she’s not there. She’s as gone with the wind as the rest of them.

He wards his house and the Hale House with an old warding spell his mother had. It’s magic he and Jennifer briefly practiced, but not very exclusively. But he gets the gist of it, adds in his own layer of protection, and soon feels the weird tug of the wards. He doesn’t feel the supposed pull when someone familiar crosses the ward, so he’s not sure if it’s working, but both his mom and Deaton say that it is and that he’ll know when he knows.

It’s when he’s checking on his wards at night that someone crosses them, and it doesn’t pull, so he looks up, expecting to see Derek or Scott or someone.

Alya stands there, her hair and most of her face shielded by a hood, but Stiles can tell it’s her. He’s surprised to see her, and expresses this.

“Alya? What are you—I… Are you okay?”

Alya looks less nervous than usual, much more sure of herself, a stark contrast to the last time Stiles saw her. She looks serious and it makes Stiles pay attention.

“You need to be wary of Deucalion,” she greets. Stiles raises an eyebrow.

“That’s all you have to say?”

“He will do anything he can to get what he wants.”

“What do you mean?”

Alya shakes her head. “I can’t say, but I’m rooting for you.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry for what I had to do, but everything else has been to help you.”

“Wait, what does that mean?”

Alya shakes her head again, looking nervously frightened and just like her usual self.

“I have to go,” she insists and turns to leave.

“Wait!” Stiles tries to call after her, but she disappears into the darkness before he can follow her. Just when he was starting to feel like he was getting answers, she goes and leaves him with more questions.

He stares at the space she once occupied and feels vaguely like the trees are a little more looming and ominous than they were just a moment ago.

He finishes up his warding quickly and heads back inside.

+++

Stiles spends Thursday at school checking over his shoulder. After his strange encounter with Alya the night prior, he’s a little more on edge. He’s not sure what Alya’s involvement with this is, but he trusts her less and less by the second.

That being said, he’s still going to heed her warning, because it’s a good one and he wants to be wary, knows he has to be.

He waits until lunch to tell the pack that she came to him last night and they’re all confused and wary, and Stiles doesn’t blame them.

“Wait, you don’t think she’s in on it, is she?” Malia asks. “I thought she was on our side.”

“It does make sense,” Isaac murmurs. “Since she’s been hiding something.”

“I would’ve seen it,” Derek says quietly, and Stiles puts a hand on his leg for comfort.

“I don’t think she’s a part of it,” he admits. “I don’t trust her very much anymore, but I really don’t think she would’ve done something like this. And Satomi would’ve seen something, too.”

“What if she’s like Jennifer? Just used you and gained your trust?” Scott asks.

Stiles shakes his head. “We won’t know until we know, and Alya’s definitely not innocent, but let’s not jump to conclusions.”

The pack reluctantly agrees and they drop the conversation for now.

+++

When Friday comes, complete with protection still posted outside school, everyone turns their attention to the impending dance that night. The girls discuss dresses and where they’re going to get ready while the boys talk about the music they’re going to be playing and if certain faculty members will be chaperoning.

It’s a glimpse into what a normal life would be like, one where the main concerns would be dances and upcoming tests and mundane things kids on TV shows worry about. It’s a stark contrast to the reality of the situation, the brutish, phantasmagoric terror that plagues them every day, that shapes the truth of what they are and all they’ll ever know. To not be worried about a crazy Alpha on your tail and an insane druid and weird emissaries and even your werewolf boyfriend and supernatural friends. It’s not black and white, because those colors are really the same thing in some aspect, but it’s night and day, full moon and new moon, real and not. And even with all of the horrors that they have faced and that have yet to come, Stiles realizes that he would not trade what he has, nightmares and all, for even a second of that so-called “normal” life. The life he has now is his normal and it’s a normal that he is comfortable in and has grown to love, impending doom and all.

“Are you okay?” Derek asks lowly from his side. Stiles glances up and smiles at him.

“Perfect,” Stiles tells him. Derek watches him for a moment before smiling in return.

+++

Stiles stares at himself in the mirror and tries to tell himself that nothing is wrong. He’s getting worked up over nothing.

It’s not even the full moon and the potential for everything to go bad that’s plaguing him. It’s the dance, the dress pants, nice shirt, and vest he’s wearing that make him look like he’s fourteen, the etiquette that comes with going to a dance with someone. Never mind that he’s going with Derek and Derek sucks at etiquette, so it probably doesn’t even matter, but he can’t help but be nervous. His first dance with a date, with his mate, at that. Of course he’s nervous.

“You look handsome, _kochanie_ ,” his mom says from the door. Stiles sighs and glances over at her.

“I feel like a clown in these clothes.”

“Everyone does. It’s tradition.” She enters his room and takes a seat on his bed, something clutched in her hand. “But you won’t feel like a clown when you’re there with your friends and Derek.”

“I’m too awkward to dance, though,” Stiles complains.

“Have you met Derek?” Claudia laughs. Stiles huffs a laugh as well. “All will be well.”

Stiles hums and glances in the mirror again, fixing his vest and running a hand through his hair, already messing it up.

“I brought you something,” Claudia says, and Stiles turns to her. She opens her hand and holds out a small corked vial that’s full of dark powder. Stiles recognizes it as mountain ash. He quirks an eyebrow and takes it from her.

“Mountain ash?”

“In case of an emergency,” she tells him. “You keep you and your friends safe, okay? You will get through this.” She stands up and kisses his cheek, rubbing his back. “You just need faith.”

Stiles pulls away to turn and give his mom a proper hug. She wraps him up and kisses his cheek again before squeezing tightly. After a minute, she lets go and smiles at him.

“Come on. Let’s go downstairs and wait with your father.”

Stiles pockets the vial and they head downstairs to wait in the living room with John. They don’t have to wait for very long before there’s a knock on the door and Claudia squeals excitedly. Stiles rolls his eyes at her antics but can’t help the nervous butterflies he gets in his stomach at the thought of Derek waiting just beyond that door for him.

John opens the door and Stiles sees Derek standing there in a black suit with a white dress shirt and a deep red tie, holding a boutonnière in his hand. Stiles feels his heart skip a beat. Derek’s eyes land on Stiles and widen slightly. Stiles hears him say, “Holy shit,” quietly, to which John laughs and steps more out of the way for Derek to come in.

“Well, don’t just stand there,” he says, and Derek clears his throat and steps inside. He walks up to Stiles and presents the boutonnière.

“Hi,” he greets.

“Hi,” Stiles returns.

Derek shakes the box slightly. “I have no idea how this works.”

Stiles laughs. “Hold on, lemme get yours from the fridge.”

He leaves Derek in the hall and quickly go gets the clear box from the fridge, coming back into the hallway. Claudia is helping Derek get his open and started and takes the one from Stiles’ hand when he comes back in.

Derek pins the flower on as Claudia forces John to take pictures, and Stiles laughs when Derek accidentally pricks himself three times. They repeat the process with Stiles pinning the flower on Derek, which he manages to poke Derek once and Derek jolts in surprise which leaves Stiles apologizing profusely. John laughs at them, but they get it eventually, and both don new red roses on their chests.

Claudia forces them to stand together by the staircase and take photos. She takes so many that Stiles complains about his face hurting from smiling, but she’s relentless. Finally, Stiles reminds them they’re on a time crunch and she lets them leave, reminding them to stay safe before kissing them both on the cheek.

John pulls Derek aside before they go, but Stiles hears the conversation anyway.

“No funny business and if anything happens to that boy, I will skin your werewolf ass myself,” John says lowly in a voice he usually reserves for dealing with criminals at work or for Stiles when he’s in serious trouble. Stiles sees Derek gulp and nod his head.

“Yessir,” he promises and John pats Derek’s shoulder.

“Okay, enough of that.” Stiles grabs Derek’s hand and pulls him away, out of his father’s reach. “Jesus, you’re going to scar him.”

“Good,” John replies and Stiles rolls his eyes. They leave, promising to be safe and take care of each other and Derek drives them back to the Hale House, opening the door for Stiles both times, which Stiles laughs at but allows.

Everyone’s inside waiting on them, all decked out in their formal wear. Theo, Erica, Malia, and Cora have on killer suits that make them look phenomenal and Lydia’s dress is as amazing as she described it. Kira and Allison are twirling in their dresses together and talking animatedly about something with Danny. All the boys are wearing suits and look fashionable, especially Jackson, though Stiles would never openly admit that.

When they arrive, everyone comments on how cute they are together and they look like a little power couple, which is mainly Erica and Theo teasing. Talia, Red, and Laura make them all take photos together, Grant, Peter, and Thomas standing back and watching with amused expressions on their faces.

They have to go through another photo session that takes way longer than it should, but eventually Derek is ushering everyone out the door and to their cars.

The ride to the dance is quicker than Stiles is expecting, and now that he’s with everyone, he doesn’t feel nearly as nervous. At least not about the dance. There is no protection tonight, as everyone is trying to protect the house and the remaining packs, so Stiles feels tightly vulnerable and exposed, like a raw nerve. The idea that anything could happen is pressing in his mind.

But they get there and they all go inside and with all the music and the lights and the people, it’s easy to forget the weight of the night.

Stiles lets himself be pulled from group to group as they dance and chat and laugh and it all feels so normal and right that it’s easy to get absorbed.

There’s no spiked punch or anything crazy out of the ordinary, like a rogue werewolf, just music and their friends and streamers.

When a slower song comes on at some point in the night, Stiles doesn’t bother to wait and instead drags Derek out to the dance floor.

Derek comes easily, and wraps Stiles up as he takes the lead. Stiles decides to allow it this time and leans into Derek, moving steadily with him in a little patch of the world they’ve carved out for themselves.

“Are you having a good time?” Derek murmurs against his ear.

“The best,” Stiles responds.

This is it, he thinks. It’s incredible cliché and he should probably wait until they’re out of the woods at least, but what if they don’t make it out of the woods tonight? What if something serious happens? He has to do it now.

“ _Kocham cię, słoneczko_ ,” Stiles says, chickening out at the last minute.

But Derek stills, comes to a stop, and Stiles looks up at him, unsure of what he’ll see. Derek has a weird expression on his face, one Stiles can’t really determine, but then he says, in perfect Polish, “ _Kocham cię, skarbie_.”

Like he practiced it. Like he’s been practicing it for a while because he’s been wanting to say it for a while.

Stiles’ heart melts and he lets out something that sounds suspiciously close to a sob and steps even more into Derek’s space, pulling him into a kiss.

Derek kisses him like he’s trying to express just how much he loves Stiles, and it makes Stiles melt all the more. He kisses like he aches for Stiles, like they’re two parts being made whole for the first time, like they’ve been so close and unable to touch and now here they are, able to envelope themselves in the feeling of one another, able to call each other’s touch home.

When Stiles pulls back, his eyes are a bit wet. He looks at Derek and sees that he’s no better, so he feels not as stupid for crying because someone he loves told him that they love him for the first time.

His mate, he reminds himself. His _mate_ loves him.

The bond between them pulls in that dangerously good way, an extension and amplification of what they feel. Stiles doesn’t think it’s ever been this bright.

“I love you,” he says again, because he can. Derek beams at him, so big and beautiful that it’s like the sun, his nickname apt.

“I love you, too,” Derek returns. He brings Stiles in and they start slow dancing again, although the song is long since over and everyone around them is moving to the fast rhythm.

They spin on in their little planet, away from the reaches of the rest of the world.

+++

When Stiles finally looks at a watch again, it’s time to go. He and Derek gather everyone up and herd them toward the entrance.

When everyone’s together, they go outside and start to head for the cars when there’s a low snarling coming from the other side of the parking lot. Red eyes peer at them through the darkness and patches of artificial light. When it steps closer, the full moon shines off its hide.

“Go!” Stiles hisses, knowing full well that they can’t outrun it, but knowing they’re going to have to try anyway. “Go! Through the woods!”

The others take off, the girls who are in heels being Olympic athletes and not missing a beat. Stiles lets everyone go before him, staring down the Alpha, who has not yet moved, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“Stiles!” Derek shouts, and finally Stiles takes off after them. He hears the Alpha bounding behind him and glances over his shoulder periodically to check the distance.

Derek runs with him at the back of the pack and Stiles sends off spells he knows, little things like sparking the ground at the Alpha’s thumping paws and using the protection his spark gives to force the Alpha run into invisible walls.

And it works, the Alpha snarls or howls, never calling but rather just angry. And they run for so long that Stiles has no idea where they are anymore, but he keeps going anyway.

There’s almost a close call with a tree, which would’ve been like poetic justice or something, but Derek pulls him away at the last minute and says, “This way! Come on!”

Eventually, one of the times Stiles looks back, when he’s exhausted and his feet are killing him because he’s still in dress shoes, the Alpha is gone. Like vanished into thin air gone, because Stiles stops in his tracks and looks around, feeling the earth around him and the wind through the trees and even in the light of the full moon, he can’t see a thing.

Derek sees him stopped and stops himself, calling out to the others to stop. He’s breathing a little heavily, not as bad as Stiles is. Seems like all the lacrosse isn’t paying off as well as he thought.

“Where—where did it go?” Derek demands.

“I have no idea,” Stiles admits, turning to look in another direction. There’s just nothing. He doesn’t feel anything at his wards either.

“Where are we?” Lydia asks, not sounding out of breath in the slightest, which, screw her.

“We’re almost home,” Derek says, gesturing in the direction they were running. “The house is that way another mile or so. We can make it.”

There’s some grumbling, but the others nod and agree and start trudging in that direction. Cora and Scott offer to carry Lydia and Allison, but both girls refuse. Kira uses Malia as support and Stiles bumps into Derek’s side as he walks, but they make their journey in relative silence, the moonlight guiding them through the brush.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alrighty ho, so, i wanna say that the paragraph in the beginning in the chapter when i mention the spider's web and the whole thing with orpheus, also well as "brutish, phantasmagoric terror" are some of my favorite lines that i've ever written, so i really hope y'all like those
> 
> as always, thank you so much to Nikt Ważny for the polish translations! "kocham cię, słoneczko" is "i love you, sunshine" and "kocham cię, skarbie" is "i love you, my treasure"
> 
> also, i've been to like three school dances but pretty much none of them were stellar and i only had a date for my senior prom but we definitely did not dance together like slow dancing, so i have no idea if this is what happens at school dances or that's how it goes, but oh well
> 
> also, they will feel the effects of the moon. it doesn't say it yet in this chapter (though i would like to believe that they do have much better control than what we would see on the show considering talia hale, experienced werewolf and badass, would be the one teaching them. but they will get wolfy, do not despair
> 
> i think that's all i have for now, more coming soon. there's like so much that is about to happen oh wow but it's all going to be okay. i'm very excited for you guys to see what's next! <333


	33. living in a lunar spell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I control the old magic, the ways you have no knowledge in! Your new magic is no match for me!” Jennifer screams.
> 
> Stiles can’t help but scoff himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one is a bit short too but it's okay. kinda an awkward split, but the rest isn't fully fleshed out yet, so we'll just have to have this one here. warnings: stiles is a badass
> 
> chapter title comes from "bark at the moon" by ozzy osbourne

When they come out of the woods and to the Hale House, there’s something noticeably off. All the lights are on, but there’s no sound coming from the house, which would be typical, even with what’s happening.

“Something’s wrong,” Derek says before Stiles can.

“Where is everybody?” Not even the humans are home, it seems.

“Look!” Scott points at one of the back windows, one that leads to the study. A person moves past it, but Stiles can’t make out who it is. “Someone’s home.”

“Okay, Scott, Derek, and I will go in,” Stiles announces. “The rest of you wait on the deck.”

The others agree and Scott, Derek, and Stiles head inside with Derek and Scott leading the charge. They head through the kitchen where it looks like dinner was started and abandoned. Derek sheds his jacket, leaving it on the counter, and they continue on through to the hallway and down to the study. Derek pauses outside the door, gesturing for Scott and Stiles to wait for a moment. He acts like he’s going to put his ear against the door, but with the soundproofing, it’s a moot point, so instead he throws open the door, claws and fangs out, Scott following his lead.

The three of them enter the study and see Morrell, Marcus, and Deaton all standing around, and a new person with them. They’re bald and milk white and their face is all scarred up. When the boys enter the room, the person—creature?—screeches in their direction and disappears in a cloud of smoke and a loud boom, the lights flickering in their wake. The weird explosion sends everyone nearest sprawling backward, which means Scott, Derek, and Stiles are spared, but no one else is.

“What was that?!” Scott exclaims.

“Is everyone’s fucking magic meter broken or something?!” Stiles shouts, rushing over to help Deaton up. Scott runs to Morrell and Derek helps up Marcus.

“She’s a darach!” Deaton exclaims, which is a lot of passion from a usually stoic man.

Stiles throws his hands up. “A freakin’ what?!”

“A darach, a dark druid, a druid who has... Gone down the wrong path,” Deaton explains quickly. “Depending on how dark they are, they are very, very strong and have a lot of abilities. They’re all going after the pack.”

“Gifts from the ancient ones,” Stiles breathes as it clicks in his head. She was talking about it this whole time, all the passion and the anger and the blabbering on about ancient ones and gifts and whatever.

“What did you say?” Deaton asks carefully, looking at him with slightly widened eyes.

“What do you mean going after the pack?” Derek demands.

“I know who it is!” Stiles announces to Scott and Derek, interrupting him. “It’s—“

“Jennifer,” Morrell finishes, holding her ribs tenderly. “Kali’s emissary.”

“You knew?” Scott asks incredulously. “This whole time you knew and you didn’t say anything?”

“It is my duty to keep the balance, as I have always done. I couldn’t let the scales tip. I am here and I have served as Deucalion’s emissary to preserve the balance as good emissaries do,” Morrell says, the last bit directed quite clearly at her brother with a pointed glare.

Deaton straightens. “You have changed the course of four lives and almost gotten people killed, not to mention there’s no telling who they will kill now, what more havoc they will wreak, and you want to talk about balance?”

Marin sneers. “Big brother, I’m doing what you never could. Your poor heart is just too big to do what has to be done. Those four who got bit, it is their destiny to go down those paths, just as it is Stiles’ destiny to become the Emissary to the Great Alpha of the Pacific Northwestern Pack. The series of events that took place here just hurried that along.”

“You bitch,” Stiles breathes and one of the lights overhead explodes, glass flying everywhere. The wolves and Marcus duck, but not Stiles or the siblings, Marin squaring her shoulders and looking directly at him. “You put my life and the lives of the people I love, my pack’s lives in danger, just to play your little game. To keep the balance?”

“And it worked perfectly,” Morrell concludes. “But I am not the villain here. The Alphas are coming and the darach is still out there. If you really care about you and your pack’s lives, you will go stop them before the balance tips and it’s too late for us all.”

Stiles hesitates, because he knows she’s right, but God he’s livid.

“Stiles, we have to go,” Derek says, and it pulls Stiles back to the moment.

“C’mon, Stiles, we have to get the pack!” Scott calls.

Stiles shakes his head at Morrell. “I will be dealing with you later.” Then he turns to Deaton. “How do I defeat this thing?”

“Mountain ash and mistletoe may weaken her, but you’ll need to weaken her pull on magic before you’ll be able to stop her.”

“And how exactly do I do that?”

“I‘ve never personally faced a darach before, I have no idea,” Deaton tells him. Stiles groans and Deaton touches him gently on the arm. “Your spark will know what to do. Should you two get into a fight, as I assume you will, your spark will show you what to do and how to defend yourself and, hopefully, how to go on the offensive as well.”

“ _Hopefully_?”

“It’s not science, Stiles, it’s magic. There’s wiggle room. Just focus on your spark and you should be fine. In the meantime, we’ll try to defend the pack as best we can. The Alphas have sent them on a goose chase through the woods, but I will bring them back this way. But remember, it’s not just Deucalion and the Alphas coming after you. I imagine there will be more loyal and devoted members of his pack that will join the fray. Lives will most likely be lost today. You have to be prepared for that.”

Stiles glances back at Scott and Derek and thinks of the rest of his pack, all his friends and further to the Hale pack and their allies and the people he’s come to know over his lifetime. He tries to think of any one of them getting hurt or dying for this cause and it’s all too easy, the images come flooding in. He closes his eyes and bows his head, takes a deep breath. Then he opens his eyes and looks back at Deaton.

“We are,” he promises, and gestures for Scott and Derek to follow him. “Come on, let’s go drop a house on this bitch.”

+++

Once they explain what’s going on to the rest of the pack, they set Derek at the head of the charge and tell them to follow his nose. Derek has the strongest senses out of them, so they trust him to follow the scent of magic and pray that that’s going to point them in the right direction.

They get deeper into the woods and closer to the Nemeton—Stiles can feel it humming under his skin like an familiar greeting, an old friend saying hello—but they steer far enough away that Stiles isn’t worried about her springing up out of nowhere and showing her ugly scarred face. He doesn’t know why she suddenly looked like that, but it’s definitely something he’ll be asking Deaton at a later date.

Derek’s nose leads them to a clearing, large and airy and definitely something like a battleground. And Jennifer stands there opposite of them, looking normal and smirking.

“Hello, protege,” Jennifer calls from across the way. Stiles bares his teeth but stays rooted in his spot just behind Derek.

“Jennifer,” he returns. She tosses her hair behind her shoulder.

“You know, I can’t say I’m surprised. You play the game quite well, but not well enough. I could’ve given you so much.”

“You were going to kill me!”

Jennifer makes a contemplative face before shrugging. “Well, can you blame me? All that untapped power? And all I had to do to get it was sacrifice a mouthy, insubordinate teenager who couldn’t even get his mate to like him? Easy.”

Derek growls and Stiles puts a hand on his forearm to stop him.

“You couldn’t handle my power,” Stiles tells her truthfully. “My magic is stronger than you could possibly know.”

She scoffs, expression turning furious.

“I control the old magic, the ways you have no knowledge in! Your new magic is no match for me!” Jennifer screams.

Stiles can’t help but scoff himself. He gets out from behind Derek and starts slowly approaching her, his pack trying to call him back. He brushes them off. Derek grabs his hand to stop him.

“Stiles, you can’t! She’ll kill you,” Derek hisses, concern evident in his eyes. Stiles smiles softly, but says nothing, merely using Derek’s grip on his hand to bring Derek’s hand to his lips and kiss the back of it gently.

He pulls out of Derek’s grip, who lets him go. Then he slips his hand into his pocket and hands Derek the moonstone, who takes it gingerly, eyes wide. Stiles nods at him encouragingly, winking. It’s time to see if he’s right about all this.

He turns back to Jennifer and walks a bit toward her, just so that he’s in front of his pack completely, and plants himself squarely, eyes narrowed and heart pounding.

“There is magic in everything I do and am. In every way I move, in every word I speak, in every limb, organ, strand of hair, and drop of blood, though you knew that already,” he adds coyly, smiling like it’s a private joke between them, which it kind of is. As he speaks, the trees above and around him start groaning and shaking, the leaves dancing, clouds formlessly starting to come together. Wind stirs through the trees, but not loud enough that Jennifer, and the pack, can’t hear stiles, that his voice isn’t projecting to the known forest, to the spirits of the wood and beyond.

“You claim that you know more magic than I, that you’re some omnipotent being, more than just a simple darach.” She hisses at the word. The wind picks up, blowing through her hair, blowing through Stiles’ hair. “You claim that your “ways of old” are ancient and powerful, but you’re newer than I am. You pray and call to the forgotten spirits and hope that they’ll save you if you give them enough blood. But they wouldn’t look at you no matter how many people you drained, because you’re a just darach, and a piss poor one at that.”

There’s a rumble of thunder and a low fog starts pouring in from the trees. Stiles tries to keep his concentration. Jennifer is glancing at the fog, her face shocked and looking around like she doesn’t believe this is happening.

Thunder rumbles louder, closer.

“Your professed “old ways” are broken and convoluted. You claim to be powerful and worthy, and think that, what? Everyone’s going to love and fear you? Did you actually think that would happen? That _I_ would let it?”

“How are you doing this?!” She shouts, something almost like fear slipping into her voice.

“You tried to kill innocent people, you tried to hurt my friends, you tried to trick me, you tried to sacrifice me, and you tried to keep me and my mate apart. You fed lies into my head and fucked with me for weeks on end, tormenting me with shadows and cheap tricks. You ask me how I’m doing this? You think you know the old magic? I _am_ the old magic.”

A bolt of lightning strikes not too far from where Jennifer’s standing and she shrieks in exclamation. Stiles starts toward her, the blood in his head rushing, but he’s too into this now to stop. He pulls out his vial of mountain ash and uncorks it.

“I don’t need _you_ to teach _me_ **_my_** magic. You will never know more magic than me. Old, new...” Stiles waves a hand and there’s a quick succession of strikes, all getting closer to Jennifer. She looks genuinely terrified. “it’s just magic. And it’s _mine_. You will not touch a hair on my pack’s head, nor will you harm any other living being again.”

Stiles reaches her and grabs her wrists in his grasp, Jennifer being too stunned by the earth moving violently around her, the sharp scent of ozone and electricity in the air, the wind rushing all around them, the trees shaking and bending, thunder rolling.

“Stop this! Stop! You’ll ruin everything!” She shouts above the noise, trying to push him off while ducking from the elements. He throws some of the mountain ash on her and it sends her stumbling back against the nearest tree, her image shifting like the mirages she likes to create as she coughs and screeches.

Stiles calls to everything elemental and natural within him, everything he knows instinctually, everything he’s been taught. Vines start swirling around their feet, uprooting from the earth and wrapping around Jennifer’s feet, climbing up her legs as she shrieks and tries to escape, curling around the tree trunks as they ensnare her. Stiles backs away and concentrates on making them work, keeping them tight. Within seconds, she’s bound to the tree totally, squirming and screaming.

Stiles turns his back to walk away and she laughs. “You think you’re actually going to defeat them? A whole Alpha pack? You’ve got to be joking! Especially with the attack they’re making on the two remaining packs. All those kiddies, gone.” She laughs maniacally.

Stiles hears Derek snarl but he holds a hand back to signal for him to hold on. He turns back to Jennifer.

“They’re attacking the packs?” He knows she’ll talk, she’s too full of herself not to; it’s why he didn’t just knock her out to start with.

“Well, obviously, whoever refuses them. That little druid of Satomi’s is rather... Gifted. Sees things we can’t. She’s how we found out which ones to collect, and, oh, is Deucalion coming to collect. After killing the traitors, he’s coming here to get his pieces. The kanima,” she nods to Jackson standing in the back behind Danny, who shifts uncomfortably, “the kitsune,” she nods now to Kira, “the banshee,” she winks at Lydia, who looks disgusted and offended all at once, “the true Alpha,” she beams at Scott, who looks entirely bewildered, but Stiles can almost see it, “the evolved wolf,” she smirks at Derek, who averts his gaze, which makes Stiles curious, “and the spark, brightest anyone’s ever seen,” she says the last bit rather bitterly and with a sneer.

“Derek’s family has other evolved werewolves,” Stiles points out. Jennifer laughs.

“Oh, please, like any of them would join. Talia wouldn’t and Laura’s just like her mother. But Peter is broken and has megalomaniacal tendencies, so we’re not writing him off just yet.” She grins like they’re sharing a secret.

“I wouldn’t join you either,” Derek announces from where he and the pack are still standing. “I would never join you.”

Jennifer grins like that’s exactly what she wanted him to say. “Uh-uh! You wouldn’t join just on your own, we know, but as soon as we have your precious mate—or kill him, whichever comes first—you’ll be so heartbroken and pliant, having lost your entire family and the only person who could be ever love someone as screwed up as _you_ —“

Stiles decks her. He’s not entirely proud of it, but he definitely doesn’t regret it, especially when her head immediately snaps down and to the side, knocking her out cold. He cries out and winces and immediately tries to check his knuckles. One split open a little bit, but the others are miraculously okay, just sore and red.

“Stiles!” Derek shouts. He rushes over to Stiles’ side and tries to see the damage.

“That would’ve been so badass if it hadn’t hurt as much as it did,” Stiles groans, cradling his hand. Derek takes Stiles’ hand in his and rubs his fingers across the knuckles, which makes Stiles wince again and Derek make a sympathetic noise. He brings Stiles’ bleeding knuckle to his mouth and starts licking away the blood, which... Stiles is pretty sure he should find this absolutely disgusting, but not only has he seen the werewolves do this to each other when they get hurt and have open wounds, but also, it’s insanely hot that Derek is doing it, lapping at his skin like that, and, _Jesus Christ_ , making eye contact with him as he does.

Stiles wishes he were lucky enough that his back was to the pack, but it’s just not his lucky day, like ever, and rather Derek’s back is facing them, so they can’t see what Derek is doing, but they can definitely see Stiles’ reaction to it, and so can Derek.

But he only has eyes for Derek. Just keeps staring at him as Derek slowly stops licking the wound clean. There’s a beat where Derek is just holding Stiles’ hand in his and they’re both staring into each other’s eyes and Stiles hears someone whisper, loudly from across the clearing, “Wait for it!”

And then he and Derek are pulling each other into an intense kiss, Stiles’ hands coming up to grip Derek’s neck and shoulders while Derek’s hands drop down to grab him tightly around the waist, squeezing him close for a second before relinquishing his grip and adjusting, his hands slipping under Stiles’ dress shirt, which is mostly untucked at this point, and holding tightly onto Stiles’ hips, his skin burning.

Stiles can’t really help the moan he makes when Derek licks into his mouth, and he tastes more like blood than is probably supposed to be hot—(should tasting like blood in any capacity be hot? He’s not sure about that)—but Stiles can’t bring himself to care much about either. Though he does hear someone who sounds a lot like Erica say, “They’re like cats in heat,” and a lot of laughing.

After probably too long, someone decides to come up and stop them making out, clearing their throat loudly a couple feet away, though Stiles and Derek don’t hear them, too wrapped up in each other.

“Guys!” Someone shouts in their ears, and they both startle, Derek instinctively pulling Stiles closer to him before moving him a bit to the side, away from the person, always trying to protect him. Stiles clutches tighter onto him, which Derek responds with rubbing his back.

It’s Theo, who looks like she can’t keep a disgusted grin off her face. “I’m very happy that you guys are demonstrating the strength of your relationship via aggressively steamy make out sessions, but now is kind of not the time. We have some pertinent information, you know?”

Stiles clears his throat and nods, taking his hands off Derek. “Yeah, no, right, we do.” He glances back at the tree where Jennifer is still tied up and knocked out cold.

“Guess that’s what’s gonna happen next time someone tries to get in between you and Derek,” Theo muses, smirking. Some of the pack starts chuckling, others smirking or grinning.

Stiles rolls his eyes, but feels a sheepish blush creep on his face. He’s saved from answering, however, by Derek stepping up and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Or I’ll rip their throat out,” Derek says, a bit of a growl slipping into his tone, which is also sexier than it should be, when murder is being discussed so casually.

“Uh-uh, that’s your insult for me. You can’t use that with other people all willy-nilly,” stiles says, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest as well.

“‘Willy-nilly’?” Derek questions, an amused smile slipping onto his face.

“I said what I said,” Stiles replies defensively.

Derek opens his mouth to respond when Theo cries, “Pertinent! Information! Guys, _Jesus Christ_ , can we just go save our pack and family and kill these guys already?! Please! For Christ’s sake, you’d think that your sexual tension would be resolved at this point with all the bed sharing and looks, but _no_ —“

“Okay, we get it!” Stiles throws his hands up to stop the barrage of his personal information that is sure to come out of her mouth. When she sends him a pointed look, he claps his hands together. The pack all comes over and convenes closer. “Okay, so Deucalion is moving on the Hales and Satomi’s pack—“

“There’s children in those packs. Humans,” Kira points out.

“It won’t matter to Deucalion,” Derek says with a shake of his head. “You guys don’t know him the way we do. But he’s—he’s like a—“

“An abomination,” Stiles finishes for him. Derek looks over at him with something like shock and awe on his face, mouth the tiniest bit ajar, eyes slightly wide. Stiles reaches out and squeezes his hand, not entirely sure why Derek’s having this kind of reaction to stiles finishing his sentence but knowing the contact will probably help.

And it does. Derek’s eyes relax and he closes his mouth and swallows, ducking his head for a moment before returning to looking at Stiles. Stiles speaks for him, knowing he needs a minute to process whatever moment he just had.

He turns to the group, who are all looking between them with varying looks on their faces, and keeps talking.

“Deucalion is worse than anything any of you have ever had to face. He’s not a true werewolf, he’s not like you. He won’t hesitate to hurt someone, innocent or not, human or not, child or not. He’s a collector. He wants to get the most valued pieces off the board so he can clear the rest out in a few short moves.” Stiles briefly wonders when he started talking like Peter. “That’s why we can’t give him everything at once. We gotta do this in rounds. Break up the Alpha pack, divide and conquer.

“We’re gonna have everybody split into teams. Theo and Cora, you’re going to distract Kali. Erica and Boyd, you’ll distract Ennis, and Scott and Jackson will distract Deucalion. Everyone else will work out getting the pack to safety or helping anyone who needs it, that includes Satomi or Talia. We also need to find Peter, Laura, and Satomi’s druid, Alya. I’ll look for her.” Stiles points at Derek. “And I need you to go find the twins.”

“Both of them?” Scott asks, leaning forward to look properly at Stiles.

“I appreciate your faith in me, but I don’t know I could subdue two Alphas at once,” Derek points out.

Stiles waves a hand. “You’re not taking them on. You’re going to talk to them.”

“Talk to them?” Jackson sneers. “They’re Alphas, they’re not going to listen to us.”

“Ethan and Aiden did some bad things in the past and then proceeded to terrorize us, especially me, that’s true. But they’re misguided. They did what Deucalion told them to because they thought they could have a better life. Again, not the wisest of decisions, but we’re trying not to judge people based on their past decisions. I know that if we talk to them, they’ll listen, especially to someone like Derek.” Stiles gestures to Derek. “They look up to you, see you like an honorary Alpha, as everyone does. They think you have more power than they do and you can use that to command them to step down and join our pack. I spoke to them, I know they just want a home and a place to settle down, at least Ethan does for sure. But Aiden won’t be far off.”

“And if he is?” Derek asks.

Stiles shrugs. “Then we’ll work from there. You’re fast on your feet, mentally and literally. You’ll think of something.”

Derek huffs a laugh and pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing aloud as he does. Then he nods and squares his shoulders, looking back at Stiles.

“If I die—“

“You won’t,” Stiles says, grinning as he moves closer and tugs gently on Derek’s tie. “But if you do, I give you full permission to haunt me and the person I date next.”

Derek frowns deeply. “I didn’t say you’re allowed to move on from my death.”

“Oh, not _allowed_ to?” Stiles grins, knocking his nose into Derek’s.

“ _No_ ,” Derek hisses, hands coming up to hold Stiles’ face.

“You’re not gonna die,” Stiles promises before surging forward and kissing him firmly but briefly. Then he pulls back and knocks their foreheads together before he pulls away completely. “You’re not gonna die.”

“No,” Derek agrees, staring at him with nothing but love, which is still so weird to see and comprehend and yet totally familiar and comfortable.

“I’m sorry, are we not going to talk about how badass Stiles was out there?” Theo chirps, smiling and patting Stiles’ shoulder.

There’s a chorus of everyone talking at once and Stiles laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, that took a lot out of me, but it looked cool, right?”

“Very cool,” Scott promises and Stiles grins at him.

“But be careful,” Derek says. “If it took a lot out of you, you need to be careful.”

“I will be,” stiles promises. “I don’t think Alya will be too bad at all.”

“Do you have any idea how to find Alya?” Isaac asks. “What if she’s not even in state anymore?”

“And what about Jennifer?” Kira adds.

“Relax, guys, I have a plan,” stiles tells them.

“What are you gonna do?” Allison asks. Stiles smiles.

“I gotta call in a favor from a friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the scene between jennifer and stiles is one of the first things i wrote and i am so happy we finally made it to this chapter. i've been waiting a real long time. 
> 
> also, that quote about dumbo not needing the feather to fly is absolutely stiles with the moonstone. actually, in the next chapter, i say something just like that, so we'll see then
> 
> and who do y'all think he's gonna call? ooh, guess we'll find out <3


	34. belated update!

hi y'all! i know i have yet to have an update this week so i wanted to take some time to get this out for you guys! i am currently working on what i am pretty sure is going to be the final chapter for this story and in an effort to make it perfect, it's taken me a bit longer than usual!! that being said, i don't think i'll have it out monday either because that is my boyfriend's birthday and we'll be celebrating all day, but i should have it out sometime next week! i also want to do a quick epilogue after that, so that should be out just after! thank you so much for your patience and understanding, i hope you all have enjoyed the story thus far and are as excited for the ending as i am! <333


	35. earth is afire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Talia sets off to gathering as many people as she can toward the house, Stiles uncorks the mountain ash his mom gave him and takes a deep breath, calling to the magic within him, coursing through him like ichor flowing through the veins of a god. Holy, and revered, and dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry this took so long, but we're here now and we've made it. thank you all for being patient <3
> 
> warnings: it gets a little violent. it's not too descriptive, but this is where the graphic descriptions of violence warning comes into play. some people die. no main main characters, i will say that much.
> 
> chapter title comes from "hungry like the wolf" by duran duran

The cavalry arrives quickly, which is unsurprising. Chris Argent and his merry band of Hunters show up on their ATVs, which Stiles assumes means they left the SUVs somewhere by the house.

Everyone’s split up already, Derek reluctant to leave Stiles alone, but Stiles promised he’d be okay.

Derek pressed the moonstone back into his palm and said, “I know you don’t even need this to fly, but just in case.”

“Did you just refer to me as Dumbo?” Stiles asked, and Derek laughed and kissed him before heading off into the night.

“This is why you should’ve called me sooner,” Chris says as he approaches. Stiles stands next to Jennifer who is still tied up and unconscious. He shrugs innocently.

“I had it under control.”

“Uh-huh,” Chris muses. He nods his head toward Jennifer. “What’s she?”

“A darach.” At Chris’ eyebrow raise, he continues. “A dark druid. Nasty, can be weakened with mistletoe or mountain ash.”

“Good thing I brought both.” Chris gestures and his men come closer and start cutting her out of the vines, wrapping her in what must be rope laced with mistletoe. His guys carry her to one of the ATVs and Stiles turns his attention back to Chris.

“I also need help finding one of the Emissaries, a girl named Alya.”

“What did she do?”

“Nothing I think she was in control of. They used her, I’m pretty sure.”

Chris grimaces. “Okay, well do you have any leads? Anywhere she would go?”

Stiles thinks about it. He actually remembers her saying that there was a clearing she would go to in the woods, not too long ago. He tells Chris as much, who nods his head.

“Alright, let’s go then.”

They head to the clearing per Alya’s instructions, just past the lake, and when they come upon it, Stiles sees a figure crouching by some rocks, pale and shaking. It’s Alya, he can tell, and he approaches her slowly.

“Alya?” He calls out to her. At first the figure doesn’t move, but then, belatedly, she lifts her head and peers over.

“S-Stiles?” She asks, moving so he can see her better. Her clothes are torn and there’s gashes across her chest, but they don’t look very deep. She blinks a few times at him as stiles gets closer and kneels in front of her.

Alya starts crying when he gets close enough. She grabs onto his arms and grips him tightly.

“I didn’t have a choice,” she sobs, tears spilling from her eyes. “They threatened to kill me and my mother, I-I couldn’t—I’m so sorry.”

Stiles pulls Alya into his arms, stroking her silvery blonde hair as she cries into his chest.

“It’s okay,” he comforts. “You were just as much a victim as the rest of us. It’s not entirely your fault.” Alya sobs harder and Stiles glances back at Chris, who makes a face, but says nothing. Stiles focuses back on Alya. “Deucalion did this to you?”

“I See things,” she says, pulling back to look at him and rubbing at her face. “It’s a gift, and when they found out about it, they forced me to spy for them. Deucalion’s the ring leader, he’s behind everything. He’s trying to lead Satomi and Talia’s packs back to the house and plans to take out all the weak links and overpower the others, usurp the throne from Talia. I Saw that and then he forced me to tell him. Then I told him I wouldn’t work for him anymore and he got so mad—he clawed at me and I ran. He didn’t pursue, I guess, but he’s going after the other packs and all the people—“

“I know, I know. We’re going to stop him,” Stiles promises.

“He won’t see you coming,” Alya says, sitting up properly and kneeling in front of him. Stiles sees now that she’s barefoot and wearing only a thin dress that exposes her arms and most of her legs. Stiles would offer his vest, but he knows it won’t do much for her.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“I took away his sight, metaphorically. He doesn’t have me anymore and I never Saw you guys making an attack. Well, I never told him that I Saw your little pack going after him. He’ll have no idea you’re coming until you’re too close for him to do anything about it.”

“You’re saying we’d have an advantage?”

“Yes.” Alya grips his hands. “You’re weakened right now after your fight with Jennifer.”

“How did you—?”

“Sight, remember?”

“Ah,” Stiles nods.

“Here.” Alya squeezes his hands tighter and closes her eyes, and it’s all silent for a moment before Stiles starts to feel a tingling sensation running through his hands and up his arms, straight to the center of his chest. He starts a little at the sensation, but Alya doesn’t release him, not until the tingling fades away completely. Then she opens her eyes and lets go of his hands.

“Uh, what did you just do?” Stiles stares at his hands in wonderment.

“A little power transference, nothing I can’t get back, but it’ll give you a little boost. It’s nothing like the spark magic, but it should help.”

“Thank you,” Stiles tells her, glancing up at her face. She looks like a bit like a mess, but she slowly smiles at him and Stiles knows she’ll be okay.

“Go,” she tells him. “Get back to your pack. Your Hunter friend can look after me.”

Stiles glances at Chris, who nods. “Your pack needs you. I will be there as soon as I’m able.”

Stiles nods. “You take care of her,” he tells Chris, who nods again. He looks back at Alya. “Stay safe.”

“You too,” she murmurs, and leans forward to kiss his cheek before pushing him back. Stiles gets the message and stands.

“His weakness isn’t his lack of sight,” Alya says as he turns to leave. He looks back at her. “It’s his lack of vision. He’s one-track minded. He believes in a specific outcome and will do anything to make that happen. Take away his options for a future, back him into a corner, and you will have won.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind,” he says and then turns and starts jogging back toward the house.

+++

When Stiles gets to the house, it already looks too late. There’s Satomi and Talia and the packs fighting, Stiles’ friends still in their formal wear, going against Deucalion and Kali and Ennis’ packs. They’re outnumbered, easily, and some of them look worse for wear. Stiles spots Derek and Scott and Theo and sees that they’re okay, still standing at least, and that’s all he can ask for right now. He also sees Ethan and Aiden fighting on their side and mentally applauds Derek.

Talia is clearly trying to get the teenagers and younger members back toward the house and away from the fighting. The human members are notably missing, thankfully. Stiles jogs up to her.

“Talia!”

She kicks someone away from her and turns to Stiles. “Stiles, honey, you’re alright!”

“Yeah, I’m fine. We gotta get everyone back toward the house, separate the packs. Keep everyone back and push the others toward the clearing until I give you the signal!”

“Okay!”

While Talia sets off to gathering as many people as she can toward the house, Stiles uncorks the mountain ash his mom gave him and takes a deep breath, calling to the magic within him, coursing through him like ichor flowing through the veins of a god. Holy, and revered, and dangerous.

When everyone is at a reasonable enough distance—which he’ll only have a few moments for this to work anyway, nanoseconds really—he throws up the mountain ash and focuses on spreading it in a ring around the Hale House. Logically, there shouldn’t be enough mountain ash for this to work, but mountain ash is a different breed and works on belief, faith, like his mom always tells him to have. He practiced this move once or twice with Jennifer, but, like the wards, they didn’t work on it terribly much. He’s mainly hoping that he knows what he’s doing and that the mountain ash obeys him.

And it does. Talia and Laura shove two strays wolves back just before the mountain ash falls and settles on the ground, effectively dividing the two sides. Stiles corks the bottle and puts it back in his pocket, taking another deep steadying breath and looking before him.

Deucalion steps up, grinning bloodily, Kali and Ennis on either side, and Marcus and Morrell just behind them. He puts a hand up and tests the mountain ash, which does not bend for him. Deucalion grins more.

“Well, aren’t you special?” Deucalion comments, staring at Stiles with his unseeing eyes. Stiles steps closer to him. “Quite a surprise, you showing up. Though I imagine that was planned. My little pet turned sides, didn’t she? Always upsetting when that happens. One of yours did that to my favorite collectables, which we’ll come back to.” Then Deucalion tsks. “You do know that we could break the line if we so wanted, right?” He gestures behind him to Marcus and Morrell. Marcus looks hesitant and Morrell is watching carefully. Neither of them step forward.

“You could, if your Emissaries wanted. Marcus doesn’t want to see innocent people die and Morrell doesn’t care about you or your ideals. She cares about the balance, restoring it and protecting it. As of now, I have the upper hand, which is bad news for you.”

Deucalion laughs. “Well played,” Deucalion commends. “You play the game well.”

“You’re quite skilled yourself,” Stiles says. “Really threw me for a loop. I mean, how you managed to get Jennifer into tricking me. Clever.”

“Did I?” Deucalion raises an eyebrow. “Jennifer stepped out of line.”

“Surely not. I mean, your whole plan doesn’t even make sense without her sub-plan.”

Deucalion sneers. “I was the one who wanted to collect the rarities in this town. Beacon Hills is prime real estate and it has a habit of drawing the most significant supernatural creatures to it. Those little rare birds that you don’t shoot, but rather observe and maybe stuff with wool to hang on your wall. Do you know the kind of power that would come from having a whole pack of incredibly rare birds? The idea is delicious, simply irresistible. So I attacked who I needed to attack and turned them or jumpstarted their powers, like your little banshee over there, who I’ve yet to hear scream.”

Stiles doesn’t glance back, but he feels Lydia’s disgust and hears Cora’s little growl.

Deucalion smirks. “Or you and your mate. Didn’t think you could hide that from me, did you?” Stiles doesn’t say anything, just stares at Deucalion. “Mm, well. I couldn’t have one without the other, obviously, not that you two would part anyway. Which helped significantly, though it was dicey at the beginning.

“But Jennifer did not help. She wanted you and you alone for her own purposes. I suppose she thought once she was powerful enough, with your blood as her elixir, she would be able to control Beacon Hills herself. I knew of her treachery for a while, though I didn’t think she could pull it off. And I’m assuming she didn’t, if she went after you and only you came back.”

Stiles says nothing still, but Deucalion smirks at the silence. “Yes, well, that’s for the better.”

Kali makes a wounded noise behind him, but no one acknowledges her. Stiles can’t imagine what it’d be like to lose an Emissary, but Jennifer’s not dead, so surely it can’t be too bad.

“And the twins,” Deucalion says, looking over at them. “Somehow you turned the twins to your so-called righteous side. Well, they were weak, too. So, no loss there. I’ll just make more.”

Deucalion turns back at Stiles and smiles slowly. “And now you know the whole nefarious plot. What will you do? What can you do? You claim you have the upper hand, but you are out of your league, boy.”

Stiles laughs. “Don’t you know who I am?” he asks. Deucalion raises an eyebrow. “I’m the _boy_ who runs with wolves. I’m the mate of Derek Hale, son of the Great Alpha. I’m the Emissary of Talia Hale, the Great Alpha of the Northwestern Pack of North America. I’m the son of John and Claudia Stilinski and one of the brightest sparks anyone has ever seen. I’m not a boy, I’m a storm with skin, and far more powerful than anything you’ve ever seen.”

As Stiles speaks, tiny drops of water start hitting him, and then they get bigger and faster until rain is pouring down and thunder is rolling in, like it did when he confronted Jennifer. Lightning crashes somewhere behind Deucalion and some of his wolves startle at the proximity of the strike.

At this time, several ATVs pull up and Chris Argent climbs off one, looking all too much like a badass with his gun in hands. Stiles pays him no mind, not taking his eyes off Deucalion.

“Hunters,” Deucalion sneers. Stiles steps forward over the line, protests going on behind him, and stares straight at Deucalion.

“You made a mistake coming to Beacon Hills and thinking you could take whatever you wanted. Everything you and I are is because of nature, and nature is here to reclaim its gift.”

The rain pounds down around them, hard enough that it almost hurts, and the thunder rolls and tumbles in the sky.

Deucalion laughs. “It’s adorable how powerful you think you are.”

He lunges forward and grabs ahold of Stiles. Chris and the other Hunters rush in and start wrangling the other wolves. Derek yells out and Stiles hears him slam into the mountain ash barrier to try to get to Stiles.

“You’re weak,” Deucalion spits, claws ripping into Stiles’ shirt. “You’re a child playing at a wolf’s game. You are destined to fail because you are alone, in all things.”

Stiles laughs. “I’ve never been alone and I never will be.”

He creates a gust of wind that knocks both of them over, but Deucalion lets go of Stiles and so Stiles scrambles up and back, sweeping away the ash. Talia, Laura, Peter, and some black wolf Stiles has never seen before, everyone in their Alpha forms, jump out and attack Deucalion and the Alphas.

Stiles nods at Chris Argent, who was waiting all this time before making any concrete moves, and now starts letting the bullets fly for the more rowdy wolves. Stiles’ only requirement for Chris and the Hunters using bullets would be only on those who would not be stopped and if they also had enough wolfsbane to counteract the effects after, which Chris is seeming to stick to.

Stiles activates the wards on the Hale House, which shock some of the opposing wolves’ feet. Stiles scrambles to his feet and joins the fray as well.

They fight maniacally, some of them. Some get put down permanently in self-defense, which is upsetting, but unavoidable. It all goes well enough though until Stiles hears a familiar cry of pain and whips around.

He rushes over to Erica, who’s laying on the ground, groaning. Boyd drops down a second later, grabbing at her face and making sure she’s still lucid enough.

“My arm...” She groans, and Stiles sees the wound where a bullet lodged itself into her bicep. It already looks black and bloody, and Stiles winces sympathetically.

“Chris!” He shouts. The Hunter dispatches of one of the wolves plaguing him and turns to Stiles. “Bullet!”

Chris runs one over and glances at the wound himself. “Is she alright?” He asks hesitantly.

“No thanks to you,” Stiles bites out. Chris purses his lips and nods, returning to the fighting. Stiles opens the bullet and heals the wound with a little fire from his palm like Deaton taught him, pressing it into her wound. She cries out and writhes, but Boyd holds her down, his face pulling together.

After Erica calms down, Boyd helps pull her up and kisses her, making sure she’s okay. She thanks Stiles and rolls her shoulder, getting back to the fray.

Stiles jogs back over to all the Alphas and hears Ennis shout, “I didn’t want to go this far! You said we’d find new land and that was it!”

Deucalion snarls, his face more wolf than man, and tackles Ennis, snapping his neck easily. Kali screams and jumps on Deucalion, who throws her off onto the ground and brings his claws down in one quick swipe, silencing her forever. Howling rings through the forest for the lost Alphas and severed packs.

Deucalion turns on those in Alpha shift and bares his teeth and Stiles panics. Then he remembers what Alya said about Deucalion’s sight.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, focusing his magic and pushing it forward, running it through to Deucalion.

“You’ve never seen anything like me,” Deucalion is saying, his voice growing louder as he speaks. “I am the Alpha of Alphas. I am the apex of apex predators. I am Death, destroyer of worlds! I am the Demon Wolf!”

As Deucalion cries out, Stiles forces his magic into Deucalion and to his eyes, giving him the gift of sight.

Deucalion stops in his tracks immediately, half-shifted and bloody all over. He takes off his glasses, which are broken now, and blinks a few times, his shift fading away as he continues blinking. Most everybody is watching him.

“I can take it away just as easily,” Stiles warns him, panting. Deucalion looks at him, for the first time properly, and there is some small wonder on his face.

“You...” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“Leave Beacon Hills,” Stiles says, the exhaustion now hitting him. “Step down in your role as an Alpha of the Five Packs. I will let you leave with your eyesight and your life if you choose to go peacefully. If not... Well...”

Everyone waits with baited breath. Stiles can feel the tension.

It doesn’t take long. Deucalion raises himself to his proper height and crushes his glasses in his hand.

“As you wish, Emissary,” he says and heads off back into the trees, disappearing like he was never even there.

It’s grossly simple and Stiles doesn’t trust it, but it’s what they have now. His pack follows after him. Those without Alphas stand around unsure of who to follow. The rest lay unmoving on the ground.

Stiles turns to Morrell, who had mainly stayed out of the fighting and turned away from the violence.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks.

She merely looks at him and says, “The balance is restored,” before heading off in her own direction. Stiles sighs.

And so they start helping the wounded. Those afflicted with gunshots wounds get treated by Stiles and Deaton while those with more serious claw marks and broken bones get healed by Talia and Laura, who’ve shifted back and currently are wearing robes brought to them from the house. Stiles lets the rain peter out as well, feeling the burden of magic weighing heavily on his shoulders.

Red and some of the other humans from inside come out and start helping, and Talia requires some of the wolves to help with the bodies. It’s all very morbid and Stiles tries not to look too much.

The only person missing from everything, Stiles notes, is Derek. He eventually gets up and starts looking around, but he can’t find him anywhere. Until he finds Laura crouched next to the black wolf from earlier.

He crouches beside her. Laura looks at him and sighs. The wolf whines.

“He doesn’t know how to change back,” she says. “We never got that far. I keep telling him, but he’s not understanding.”

Stiles understands immediately that this wolf is Derek, that Derek finally got the Alpha shift down. He hums. “How do you change back?” he asks Laura.

“I focus on feeling each part of me shift from human to wolf or wolf to human, focus on human feelings and emotions. Derek doesn’t understand it, I don’t think.”

“Let me try,” Stiles says. Laura nods and stands up and takes a couple steps back. Stiles reaches out and pets Derek gently, stroking his ears and giving him praise. “You look so beautiful. Gorgeous fur. I think you’re overthinking it too much. It sounds like the whole process is about letting go of all that makes you a complete wolf and regaining your humanity. Think about touch, holding my hand and feeling rain on your skin. About going to school and the dance, do you remember the dance? Do you remember what I said? Because it’s still true. I love you. And I’ll wait until you’re okay again to shift. I don’t mind waiting for you.”

Slowly, with more words of encouragement from Stiles, Derek becomes Derek again, until Stiles is petting human Derek’s hair and staring at all of his tan skin, his clothes gone. Stiles politely averts his eyes and a second later, Laura is shoving clothes into his hands for Derek, a smile on her face.

“Thank you,” she mouths. Stiles smiles back and takes the clothes.

“Hey, bud,” he says to Derek, who sits up slowly and groans. He passes him the clothes. “Only I’m allowed to see that much of you.”

“Shut up,” Derek blushes and Stiles averts his eyes while Derek quickly pulls on the clothes. Then there’s a tugging on his hands and Derek pulls him up to his feet, looks softly at him while he holds his face in his hands.

“You’re reckless,” Derek tells him. “I was so worried.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Stiles tells him earnestly. Derek pulls him in and kisses him. “How did you fully transform anyway?”

Derek rubs the back of his neck. “I was worried,” he says again. “I’m not really sure how, but I think that was part of it. I saw you in trouble and I couldn’t help myself. It was instinctual.”

Scott, who is conveniently passing by at this time, calls out, “It was the coolest thing ever! How he just transformed, it was badass!”

Derek blushes deeper and nods. “I just didn’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Nothing will, with you protecting me,” Stiles smiles. Derek returns it and then kisses him once more.

The moon is starting to fade by this time, daylight breaking just on the horizon. The newer wolves like Scott, Jackson, and Isaac grow quieter and less restless as they have been all night. Stiles watches the light come stretching through the trees, creeping toward them and illuminating the unfortunate carnage from the recent battle. There’s a strange silence echoing through the forest, morning animals muted and voices not much more than a whisper, like everyone is afraid to break the moment. It’s a long moment, one that bangs on like beating drums, heavy and absolute, unforgiving in what it is.

As Talia and the others help the last of the injured parties, the Hunters having disappeared with the bodies of the fallen wolves, she takes a moment to herself and breathes deeply, her exhale resonating through the pack. Stiles watches her collect herself, and then she turns to him and Derek and gives them her best attempt at a smile, which ultimately falls a little flat.

“You did it,” she tells them, and Stiles revels in the words. “Thank you, boys.”

“Wish we could have done more,” Stiles says. Talia nods and looks around, pointedly not glancing at the blood-stained grass.

“You did all you could. It’s more than we could ask for.”

Stiles nods. Chris walks up to them and Stiles turns to him.

“Thank you for your help,” Stiles says. “Let’s hope this is the last time we have to do this.”

“You owe me a favor now, Stiles,” Chris reminds him. Stiles makes a mock confused face.

“Really? ‘Cause the way I see it, not only did you hurt one of my pack members, but I just helped save your town and the pacific northwest from being overtaken by a douche wolf who would’ve stopped at nothing to see you all under his toe claws.” Stiles now offers a polite smile. “So I’d say we’re pretty even.”

Chris takes a moment to look at him, a sour expression on his face, before he assents. “Alright, fine. I’ll grant an exception this time. But no more freebies.”

Chris turns to leave, but something clicks in Stiles’ mind and he can’t help himself.

“If anything, it’s more like you owe _me_ a favor, considering how much I saved your hide.”

“Stiles,” he hears someone sharply warn, but he doesn’t listen.

Chris turns and narrows his eyes. “You’re toeing the line.”

“Oh yeah?” Stiles laughs, striding up so he’s incredibly close to Chris, a few inches apart. Chris’ Hunters move forward just like Stiles’ pack tries to call him back, but they both wave them off. “Next time your other daughter is in town you better keep a pretty tight leash on her, and count your blessings now that I don’t go hunt her down like the bitch she is and yes, that is a threat. And since we’re on the topic of threats, touch one of my pack members again—and I’m talking shoot them with an arrow or bullet, punch them, and so much as look at them wrong—and I _promise_ that I will find the party responsible and they will find justice where I personally see fit. If you want a peaceful alliance, you’re not gonna find it cleaning your guns and making your little wolfsbane bullets, you’re gonna find it talking to _me_ and working it out with _me_. _I_ am the Emissary to the Hale pack. You want someone impartial, you talk to Deaton, but you wanna come over here and try to talk fairness and favors, let me remind you that _you’re_ not the ones who have to hide because people are ignorantly afraid of you. Fairness will be discussed on _my_ terms, and on my _Alpha’s_ terms, not by what you see fit because that clearly isn’t working. Do you understand? Or have I not crossed your little line yet?”

There’s no big breeze, no moving trees, no rolling thunder, just the morning light coming in slowly. Stiles doesn’t need a big production to show them he means business, that this is his place now and that it sucks that position couldn’t be properly filled sooner, but now it is and he’s here and he’s going to build something stronger than anything they had before.

Because the Nemeton could be awakened, which means a lot of bad shit could be coming, and Stiles knows the only way he can stop something like that happening is with help and allies. He hopes Chris understands that, too.

It’s quiet amongst everybody. They all heard him, no doubt, the Hunters, too. Chris is just staring at him, an inscrutable expression on his face. There’s a tension in the air, but it seems more like it’s coming from some of the other Hunters, disgruntled with the way a kid is talking to their boss. Stiles could care less. He’s not letting anyone get hurt ever again, werewolf or human or something else entirely.

“I understand,” Chris grits out after some time. They stare at each other for another second before Chris nods, more so to himself, it seems. Something a little like pride crawls onto his face. “You’re quite a formidable young man.”

Stiles leans back into his own space, arms crossed over his chest. “And you’re not a villain. So don’t act like one.” Chris makes a slight face and Stiles shrugs a shoulder, ignoring the expression. “I actually like you better than the rest of your family, Allison excluded because she’s a literal angel—honestly, I don’t know how you got someone as precious as Allison from a whole family like—“

“Okay, you’ve gained my respect and gotten my attention, don’t lose either,” Chris interrupts, holding up a hand. Stiles grins, because that was half his intention to annoy Chris and half just him opening his mouth and letting whatever come out, which is always a gamble.

“I meant what I said about my pack,” Stiles stresses. “You’re not going to persecute or hunt us. And in return, we’re going to help you protect this town and the people within it. That might not be what all werewolves and werewolf packs do, but we’re not like any pack you’ve ever seen before. I want to be your ally. I want peace, and justice. They don’t have to be antitheses. I hope you understand that, and want the same.”

“I do,” Chris agrees, regarding him with another look. Stiles also doesn’t know how to process that, so he opens his mouth again.

“And I meant what I said about your older daughter. I will personally kill her if she comes in between me or mine again, or tries to contact any of us. She knows what she did, I frankly don’t care whether or not you know what she did, but if I see her or hear her or freakin’ sense her, there’s gonna be hell to pay. And I would be perfectly in my right to protect my mate.”

Chris makes a sour lemon face, but nods. “I know what happened,” he says quietly, and Stiles isn’t even a little bit surprised. “And I understand. We’ll make arrangements.”

Stiles wants to say that they should be making funeral arrangements for her, but he really needs to stop insulting Chris before he really takes it too far. And he thinks he’s made his point, if the simultaneous sorrow, regret, and intense love he’s feeling through his bond mean anything.

“Thank you again for your help. sincerely. We couldn’t have done this without you and I won’t forget that,” Stiles promises, extending a hand. Chris looks at it for a moment—lots of looks coming from him, like he’s internally processing everything Stiles is saying, which is kind of true for his character—before reaching out and shaking his hand. It’s a firm and almost businesslike handshake, and it leaves Stiles knowing that Chris is going to do the right thing, even if the rest of his Hunters end up being batshit.

“You really are a remarkable young man,” Chris compliments when they let go. “And you’ll make an excellent Emissary, perhaps exactly what we need.”

Stiles now gives him a look, mulling the words over for a moment before smiling. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

Chris hums and glances at someone over Stiles’ shoulder, bowing his head in respect.

“Alpha Hale,” he says in salutations. Then he looks back at Stiles and nods once before turning around and instructing his Hunters to leave.

When they drive away, Stiles waits for a moment before turning around, a hand to his forehead in worry. “Was that okay?” he asks the group behind him.

The whooping starts up, people laughing and clapping, and Talia is the first to come over and wrap him up in her arms. She squeezes him tightly and laughs into his hair.

“Yes, Stiles, that was more than okay. Probably a little unnecessary and you’re definitely going have some of the more zealous Hunters on your back, but the gesture did not go unnoticed.”

“No the fuck it didn’t!” Theo exclaims from Stiles’ left. When he pulls back from Talia’s hug, Cora is standing next to her, smiling instead of scowling like usual. Theo hugs him tightly, kissing his forehead in a loud smack. “You just progressively get more and more badass!”

Stiles laughs and hugs her back, reveling in the small victory, if he could even call it that. He enjoys the feeling of the pack surrounding him for a second longer with his eyes closed before opening them and stepping back, unable to fight the smile off his face.

“We did it,” he breathes, and he feels the pack breathe with him, a collective sigh of relief and gratitude. It’s over, and he hopefully never has to get that serious again, at least not for a long time.

There’s still so much training to be done, both with his powers and as Emissary to the Great Alpha of the Northwestern Pack of North America. With such an official title comes responsibilities out the wazoo, Stiles is sure. But he has Talia to help him, and Laura and Peter and his friends and Derek, most importantly, he has Derek. And he’s so damn grateful.

Through hell and back again, a journey into the depths of Hades and out, pushing through and forward until they resurfaced. What’s the saying? If you’re going through hell, keep going? That’s what Stiles did, and he’s come out again virtually unscathed and able to tell his tale. He can’t say the same about his opponents, a good handful who are unfortunately dead, but he did all he could and he kept his pack together and safe, and that’s really all he could have asked for.

He lets the pack bond flow through him, pushes at it gently and acknowledges it, feels his pack’s energy course through him and acknowledge him back. And he feels Derek and his bond, a raging white fire, never ending, all encompassing. He feels Derek in all his glory, total and whole and warm, a solid and firm presence that never dims or fades, that keeps pulsing and moving, yet somehow also stagnant and unchanging. Derek is a mess of contradictions, like Stiles himself, and it makes sense that his energy and bond are the exact same. Here, Stiles can feel the melding of their souls, red and blue making a vibrant and brilliant purple, the world exploding into a magnificent and gentle light that shields them and protects them from all harm and danger.

Stiles realizes he’s getting poetic, but he can’t help himself. Derek just does that to him.

He finds the man in question and pulls him in, in front of everybody, and kisses him soundly. Derek will have felt him poking around at the bond and known what it meant, which is probably partly why he reacts immediately and wraps Stiles up in his arms.

They embrace for a moment before Stiles decides to let him go out of courtesy for their audience. He smiles at Derek, who returns it immediately, his face illuminating.

“ _You_ did it,” Derek emphasizes, a stray thumb rubbing gently over Stiles’ cheek. They’re still dressed in their formal wear, the sun rising above them, dawn streaking across the sky in a warm hello.

Stiles shakes his head. “It was all of us, together, as a pack.”

Talia makes a happy huffing noise next to them and reaches over, giving Stiles a kiss on the temple.

“You will make an excellent Emissary,” she says.

“He already does,” Derek comments, a proud smile on his face and twinkle in his eye. He rubs at Stiles’ shoulder, seemingly unable to stop touching him.

Stiles can’t help the blush that paints his cheeks, and lightly pushes at Derek’s chest, which does nothing but make Stiles feel slightly better.

“I’m just helping my pack,” he tries. Talia smiles wider.

“That’s what makes you a good Emissary,” Theo chips in, ruffling his hair. Stiles squawks and bats at her hand, but the damage is already done. Not that it matters much now.

“Come on,” Talia says, gesturing toward the house and the rest of the pack. “Let’s make some breakfast for you all and think of good excuses to tell your parents.”

There’s a chorus of laughter and Stiles smiles at the mundanity of it all. He clasps Derek’s hand and nods at Talia.

“Sure, breakfast sounds good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am so sorry this took so long guys, i really wanted to make it perfect and then basically real life happened and school was a lot and i got a boyfriend and a new friend group that i've been spending a bunch of time with and everything got crazy. but this is it! i am so happy this story is over, mostly because i just spent so long writing it and perfecting it and i'm happy it's finally done. it's not perfect, but it is in a spot that i am currently happy with, so yeah :)
> 
> all i can say is stiles is forever a badass and i wish the show went something like this. also, epilogue coming either today or tomorrow <3


	36. this is a place where i feel at home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The most memorable experiences come when they’re not even trying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhh this is it! the epilogue and the finale of this crazy story! i know it's short, but here it is! thank you all so much for sticking around, i love all of you! <333
> 
> chapter title from "to build a home" by the cinematic orchestra

Stiles closes the book and pushes it forward on the table towards Deaton.

“Can I please go now?” he begs. Deaton sighs and waves a hand.

“If you must.”

Stiles cheers and collects his things quickly, darting outside the vet’s clinic and to his Jeep. The drive to the Hale House is always one filled with nervous energy and excitement.

They’re juniors and in the midst of their fall semester when all the leaves are changing colors and it’s just now starting to get cold enough to long sleeves and outer layers. Stiles and Derek have been dating for about five or six months now and somehow it feels like no time has passed and like they’ve been doing this for years all at once.

In the beginning, after hellscape, all Stiles wanted to do was spend time with Derek. Like every waking minute they had would be spent together. Which is fun, but Stiles has come to learn that there is a healthy balance to everything, even with mates. So he and Derek plan when they’re going to see each other most of the time, like today, which just so happens to be one of their dates.

Every date is a good one. Well, almost every one. The first public one was at a local spring carnival and it’s safe to say that no one enjoyed that one, especially the Ferris wheel operator. But since then they’ve gotten better, and it’s a lot more fun when they’re relaxed with it and not putting pressure on making it a memorable experience. The most memorable experiences come when they’re not even trying.

Today, Stiles is ditching Deaton early to go with Derek and their friends on a bowling date, which doesn’t seem like much a date with everyone else involved, but Stiles wouldn’t have it any other way.

With all the work he’s been doing to protect the Nemeton and make sure it doesn’t awaken accidentally, he needs times like these to be off enjoying himself and his freedom, reminding himself that he’s just a kid in all of this, just turned seventeen and figuring out his place in the world and how it all works, especially the supernatural world.

Since assuming the title of Emissary to the Great Alpha of the Northwestern Pack of North America, he’s become swamped with discovering all there is about supernatural lore and the creatures and customs that are apart of it. Peter’s been helping him a ton, who he still doesn’t trust completely, but is learning to work with and around in spite of that. Deaton and Talia are great helps, too, and even Chris Argent is throwing in some readings from the Argent Bestiary whenever he has a minute. Stiles assumes that’s because Stiles chewed his ass out, but it’s probably safer not to ask.

As for the Pack, it is split up and divided. Aiden and Ethan were able to assume control of the British Colombia pack and send Talia regular updates. Satomi is still strong in Southern California with Alya at her side. Oregon and Washington are currently being watched by Territory Alphas, who Talia is supposed to meet with later in the year to discuss the future of said territories. The wolves who were loyal to Deucalion mostly died with his cause, but some who remain are being closely watched in Aiden and Ethan’s pack. Those loyal to Ennis and Kali have returned to their homes and found new Alphas to be loyal to. Marcus and Morrell are in the wind, but no one is actively concerned. Jennifer is currently MIA, but Stiles highly suspects Chris Argent is holding her somewhere that only Talia knows about. He’s sure if he asked that she’d tell him, but he wonders if it’s safer not to know.

Everyone is settling into their powers. Scott was born to be a werewolf, definitely a True Alpha as Jennifer said. Lydia has been working on her banshee powers and using them as an offensive weapon rather than a defensive tool. From what Stiles has heard through the grapevine, she’s doing rather well. He’s proud of her, nonetheless.

Erica took getting shot like a champ and recovered swiftly. Danny’s been around werewolves his whole life so this is nothing new to him. Kira loves living in Beacon Hills and being surrounded by everyone, all her new friends and pack.

Laura’s pregnant. Well, it’s not confirmed, but Derek keeps sniffing the air when she walks in and then smiles really softly, so Stiles is pretty sure that’s what that is. Everyone’s relationships are thriving, especially Stiles and Derek’s. Everything is good and natural and right with the world.

And bowling, there’s always bowling. Today, Stiles will drive to Derek’s and pick him up and take them to the bowling alley where they’ll hang out with their friends and their pack and eat gross pizza and bowl terribly and play arcade games and focus on the fact that they’re just kids and they’re allowed to be kids and to have the freedom and safety that comes with youth. They’ll laugh and joke around and make fun of Jackson whenever he tries to make fun of Stiles and they’ll be together and united and just plain happy, which is something Stiles was worried they wouldn’t have for a minute there. They’ll all go home tonight except for Stiles and Derek, who will drive back to the Hale House but venture into the woods and walk the grounds, surveying the land as they hold hands and talk about stuff that doesn’t even matter and bask in each other’s presence and the feeling that there is nowhere else they’d rather be than beside each other in the moonlight, holding on and never letting go.

Stiles smiles and backs out of the parking lot, heading for the open road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again, thank you everyone for sticking around and reading this story. it means the absolute world to me, all your support and comments and words of encouragement. i never would have gotten this far if it wasn't for you guys so thank you for everything and i hope i did this justice <33 i love you all very much and hope to see you again some other time! thank you! <333

**Author's Note:**

> updates should be bi-weekly!
> 
> thank you all so much for reading! <3
> 
> tumblr: http://provokiing.tumblr.com


End file.
